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THE AMULET. 


i/ 

By Hendrik Conscience, 

Author of “The Curse op the Village,” “ The Happiness of Being Rich,” “ Veva,” 
“The Lion of Flanders,” “Count Hugo of Craenhove,” “Wooden Clara,” 

“ The Poor Gentleman,” “ Ricketicketack,” “ The Demon of Gold,” 

“ The Village rNN-KEEPER,” “ The Conscript,” “ Blind Rosa,” 

“ The Miser,”' “ The Fisherm'an’s Daughter,” etc. 


f ranslateb for tijis 



BALTIMORE: ^ 

Published by John Murphy & Co. 

182 Baltimore Street. 

Sold by Booksellers Generally. 





Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
JOHN MURPHY, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Translator’s Preface. 


TN the “Amulet,” Hendrick Conscience has worked up an 
incident which occurred at Antwerp, in the 16th century, 
into a story of great power and deep interest. It was a dark 
and bloody deed committed, but swift and terrible was the 
retribution, strikingly illustrating how God laughs the sinner 
to scorn, and how the most cunningly devised schemes are 
frustrated, when He permits the light of His avenging jus- 
tice to expose them in their enormity. On the contrary, it 
forcibly proves that virtuous actions, sooner or later, bear 
abundant fruit even in this world. If a man’s sins bring 
upon his head a weight of woe, so do his good deeds draw 
down the benedictions of heaven and serve as a shield to 
protect him from his enemies. 

S. J. F. 


Baltimore , April , 1873. 
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Antwerp . 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter I. paqb 

9 

Chapter II. 

Signor Deodati . . J 30 

Chapter III. 

The Palace of Simon Turchi, and what occurred there . 43 
Chapter IV. 

The Attempted Assassination — The Assassinator Slain . 64 
Chapter V. 

Van'de Werve’s Keception — Simon Turchi’s Jealousy 


AND Hatred 79 

Chapter VI. 

Simon Turchi wreaks his Vengeance on Geronimo . . 96 

Chapter VII. 

Grief AT Geronimo’s Absence — Turchi’s Hypocrisy . .112 

Chapter VIIL 

Simon Turchi tries to conceal his Crime . . . .128 

Chapter IX. 

Geronimo Kesurrected 143 

Chapter X. 

Simon Turchi’s Alarm — Crime begets Crime . . .157 

Chapter XI. 

Food AT LAST — Death of Julio ....... 171 

Chapter XII. 

Is IT HIS Ghost? — The Guilty EXPOSED . . . .180 

Chapter XIII. 


Mary Van de Werve’s (now Madame Geronimo Deodati) 
Departure for Italy — The Punishment of .Simon 

Turchi 193 

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4 







THE AMULET. 


CHAPTER I. 

P REVIOUS to the close of the fifteenth century, the 
direction taken by European commerce remained un- 
changed. America had not been discovered, and the only 
known route to India was by land. 

Venice, enthroned by her central position as queen of 
commerce, compelled the nations of Europe and Asia to 
convey to her port all the riches of the world. 

One single city, Bruges in Flanders, serving as an inter- 
national mart for the people of the North and South, shared, 
in some measure, the commercial prosperity of Venice; but 
popular insurrections and continual civil wars had induced 
a large number of foreign merchants to prefer Brabant to 
Flanders, and Antwerp was becoming a powerful rival to 
Bruges. 

At this period two great events occurred, by which a new 
channel was opened to trade; Christopher Columbus dis- 
covered America, and Vasco de Gania, by doubling the 
Cape of Good Hope, pointed out a new route to India. This 
latter discovery, by presenting another grand highway to 
the world, deprived Venice of the peculiar advantages of 
her situation, and obliged commerce to seek a new emporium. 
Portugal and Spain were the most powerful nations on sea ; 
countless ships left their ports for the two Indies, and 
brought back spices, pearls, and the precious metals for dis- 
tribution throughout the Old World. This commercial ac- 

9 


10 


THE AMULET. 


tivity required an emporium in the centre of Europe, half- 
way between the North and the South, whither Spaniards, 
Portuguese, and Italians, as well as French, English, Ger- 
mans, Swedes, and Russians, could resort with equal facility 
as to a perpetual mart for all the commodities exchanged 
between the Old and the New World.* 

A few years before the commencement of the religious 
wars which proved so disastrous to the country, Antwerp 
was in a most flourishing condition. Thousands of ships of 
every form and size covered its broad river like a forest of 
masts, whose many-colored flags indicated the presence of 
traders from all the commercial nations of the globe. 

Portuguese gallions carried thither the gems and spices 
of the East ; Spanish gallions the gold and silver of America ; 
Italian vessels were laden with the delicate fruits and rich 
stuffs of the Southern countries ; German vessels with grains 
and metals ; and all returned to their own countries heavily 
freighted with other merchandise, and made way for the 
ships which were continually arriving, and which, according 
to contemporary chronicles, were often obliged to wait six 
weeks before they succeeded in approaching the wharf, f 
Small craft, such as hers, ascended the Scheldt, and even 
ventured out to sea in order to trade with the neighboring 
people. Transportation into the interior of the country was 
effected by means of very strong wagons, several hundred of 
which daily left Antwerp. The heavy vehicles which con- 
veyed merchandise through Cologne to the heart of Germany 
were called Hessenwagens.X 

“ All the foreign merchants who resided at Bruges, with the ex- 
ception of a few Spaniards, established themselves here about the year 
1516, to the great disadvantage of Bruges and to the advantage of 
Antwerp.” — Le Guicciardini, Description of the Low Countries. Arnhem 
1617, p. 113. ’ 

t C. Schibanius, in his Origines Antwerpien Sum, says that he has 
often seen in the Scheldt twenty-five hundred vessels, many of which 
were detained at. anchor for two or three weeks before being able to 
approach the wharf. 

X The stables and coach-houses used by this company for transpor- 


THE AMULET. 


11 


This extraordinary activity induced many foreigners to 
establish themselves in a city where gold was so abundant, 
and where every one might reasonably hope for large 
profits. 

At the period of which we speak, Antwerp counted 
among its inhabitants nearly a thousand merchants from 
other countries, each of whom had his own attendants; 
one chronicle estimates, perhaps with some exaggeration, 
the number of strangers engaged in commerce at five thou- 
sand. * 

Twice a day these merchants met on ^Change, not only 
for purposes of trade and for information of the arrival of 
ships, but principally for banking operations. 

To convey an idea of the amount of wealth at the dis- 
posal of the houses of Antwerp, it suffices to say that the 
king of Portugal obtained in one day in this city a loan 
of three millions of gold crowns, and Queen Mary of England 
contracted a debt of seventy millions of francs. 

One merchant, called the rich Fugger, left at his death 
legacies amounting to nearly six millions of gold crowns, 
a sum which for that period would seem fabulous, if the 
fact were not established by indisputable documents. 

This wealth and the presence of so many nations vying 
with each other had carried luxury to such a height that 
magistrates were frequently obliged to publish edicts, in 
order to restrain the lavish expenditure. This was not 
done on account of the foreign inhabitants of the place, but 
for the advantage of many noble families and the people 
of the middle classes, who were tempted by the example 
of others to a display of magnificence which might have 
seriously injured their fortunes. 

The greater part of the Italian merchants from Lucca, 
Genoa, Florence, and other cities beyond the Alps, were 

tation still exist at Antwerp. Although they are now occupied as bar- 
racks, they preserve their original name — Hessenhaus. 

* See the statistics of population given by Schibanius in the History 
of Antwerp, by Mertens & Torfo, Part IV., ch, v. 


12 


THE AMULET. 


noblemen, and from this circumstance they were thrown 
into intimate intercourse with the noble families of Antwerp, 
all of whom spoke fluently three or four languages, and 
who particularly studied to speak with purity and elegance 
the soft Italian idiom.* 

In the Hipdorp, not far from the Church of St. James, 
stood an elegant mansion, which was the favorite resort of 
the 41it6 of the Italian merchants. It was the residence of 
William Van de Werve, lord of Schilde. 

Although this nobleman did -not himself engage in mer- 
cantile transactions, because the aristocratic families of 
Brabant regarded commerce as an occupation unsuitable to 
persons of high birth,f he was very cordial and hospitable 
to all strangers whose rank entitled them to admission to 
his home circle. Moreover, he was extremely wealthy, 
luxurious' in his manner of living, and so well versed in 
three or four difierent languages, that he could with ease 
enter into an agreeable and useful conversation in either of 
them. 

The house of Mr. Van de Werve had still other attrac- 
tions to noble foreigners. He had a daughter of extraor- 
dinary beauty, so lovely, so modest, notwithstanding the 
homage offered to her charms, that her admirers had sur- 
named her la Honda maraviglia, “ the wonderful blonde.” 

One morning in the year 1550 the beautiful Mary Van 
de Werve was seated in her father’s house in a richly sculp- 
tured arm-chair. The young girl had apparently just re- 
turned from church, as she still held in her hand a rosary 
of precious stones, and her hood lay on a chair near her. 
She seemed to be engrossed by some pleasing thought which 

* The inhabitants of Antwerp are experienced and skilled in com- 
mercial affairs, and although they may not have left their own country, 
the greater part of them, even the women, can speak four, five, and 
sometimes seven different languages. 

t “ The nobles of Netherlands do not engage in commerce like the 
Italian noblemen from Venice, Florence, Genoa, and Lucca.” — L. Guic- 
cardini, Description of the Low Countries^ p. 140. 


THE AMULET. 


13 


filled her heart with a sweet anticipation, for a slight smile 
parted her lips, and her eyes were upraised to heaven as if 
imploring a favor from Almighty God. 

Against the wall behind her hung a picture from the 
pencil of John Van Eyck, in which the great master had 
represented the Virgin in prayer, whilst she was still igno- 
rant of the sublime destiny that awaited her. 

The artist had lavished upon this masterpiece the most 
ardent inspirations of his pious and poetic genius, for the 
image seemed to live and think. It charmed by the beauty 
of feature, the majestic calm of expression, the sweetness of 
the smile, the look full of love cast from earth to heaven. 

There was a striking resemblance between the creation of 
the artist and the young girl seated beneath in almost the 
same attitude. In truth, the youthful Mary Van de Werve 
was as beautiful as the poetical representation of her pa- 
troness. She had the same large blue eyes, whose expression, 
although calm and thoughtful, revealed a keen sensibility* 
and a tender, loving soul; her golden hair fell in ringlets 
over a brow of marble whiteness, and no painter had ever 
traced a cheek of lovelier mould or more delicate hue ; her 
whole being expressed that calm recollection and attractive 
gravity which is the true poetry of the immaterial soul, and 
which was comprehended only by the believing artists of 
the North before the material inspiration of pagan art had 
been transmitted to them from the South. 

Mary Van de Werve was most richly attired; but there 
was in her dress an absence of ornament which appeared 
strange at that period of extreme pomp and show. A waist 
of sky-blue velvet encircled her slender form, and a brocade 
skirt fell in large folds to her feet. Only on her open 
sleeves appeared some gold thread, and the clasp which 
fastened the chamois-skin purse suspended from her girdle 
was encrusted with precious stones. 

All her surroundings betokened her father’s opulence: 
large stained-glass windows, covered with the armorial bear- 
2 


14 


THE AMULET. 


ings of his ancestors, cast their varied hues upon the inlaid 
marble floor; tables and chairs of oak, slabs supporting ex- 
quisite statuary from the chisel of the most celebrated artists, 
were ranged along the walls; an ivory crucifix surmounted 
a silver basin of rare workmanship containing holy water. 
Even the massive andirons, which stood in the broad fire- 
place, were partly of gold and ornamented with the coat of 
arms. 

Her prayer was finished, or it might be that her thoughts 
had taken another turn; she arose and walked slowly to- 
wards the large window which overlooked the garden. She 
fixed her eyes upon the beautiful blue sky; her countenance 
was bright, as though a sweet hope filled her heart, and a 
rosy hue suffused her cheeks. 

An old man at this moment entered the room. - Heavy 
moustaches shaded his lips, and a long beard fell upon his 
breast. There was something grave and severe in his im- . 
posing appearance and even in his dress; for although his 
doublet was of gold cloth, his whole body was enveloped in 
a long cloak, whose dark color was relieved by a lining of 
white fur. 

“Good morning, Mary,” he said, as he approached the 
young girl. 

“May the blessing of God always be with you, dear 
father,” she replied. “ Come, see how lovely the sky is, and 
how brightly the sun shines.” 

“It is charming weather; we might almost imagine our- 
selves in the month of May.” 

“ It is the eve of May, father..” And with a joyous smile 
she drew her father to the window, and pointing to the sky, 
said: “The wind has changed; it blows from the direction 
of England.” 

“True; since yesterday it has been south-east.” 

“So much the better; the ships which have been kept out 
at sea can ascend the Scheldt with to-day’s or to-morroVs 
tide.” 


THE AMULET. 


15 


“And you hope,” said Mr. Van de Werve, shaking his 
head, “that among these vessels will be found the II Saha- 
tore, which is to bring the old Signor Deodati from Lucca ? ” 
“I have so long implored of heaven this favorable wind,’’ 
replied the young girl. “I thank the God of mercy that 
my prayer has been heard ! ” 

Mr. Van de Werve was silent; his daughter’s words had 
evidently made a disagreeable impression upon him. 

She passed her arm caressingly around his neck, and said : 
“ Dear father, you are sorrowful ; and yet you promised me 
to await tranquilly the arrival of Signor Deodati.” 

“ It is true, my child,” he replied ; “ but, as the time ap- 
proaches when I must come to a decision, my soul is filled 
with anxiety. We are the descendants of an illustrious 
family, and our style of living should be so magnificent as 
to reflect credit on our rank. The Signor Geronimo, whom 
you seem to prefer to all others, lives very economically ; 
he dresses simply, and abstains from all that kind of ex- 
penditure which, being an evidence of wealth and chivalric 
generosity, elevates a man in the eyes of the world. That 
makes me fear that his uncle is either in moderate circum- 
stances or very avaricious.” 

“ But, father, permit me to say that the Signor Deodati of 
Lucca is very rich and of high birth,” replied the young 
girl, sadly. “Did not the banker Marco Eiccardi give 
you satisfactory information on that point ? ” 

“And should he be miserly, Mary, will he accept the 
conditions I propose ? I shall demand of him the renuncia- 
tion of a considerable portion of his possessions in favor of 
his nephew. Geronimo. Would it not be an insult to you, 
which your brothers would avenge, were your hand to be 
refused from pecuniary motives ? I regret that you have so 
irrevocably fixed your aflections on the Signor Geronimo, 
when you might have chosen among a hundred others richer 
and of higher estate. The head of the powerful house of 
Buonvisi had more claim upon my sympathy and yours.” # 


16 


THE AMULET. 


“ Simon Turchi ! ” said the young girl, sorrowfully bowing 
her head. 

What has this poor Signor Turchi left undone during 
the past three years to prove his chivalric love ? ” replied 
her father. “ Festivals, banquets, concerts, boating on the 
Scheldt, nothing has been spared ; he has expended a for- 
tune to please you. At one time you did not dislike him ; 
but ever since the fatal night when he was attacked by 
unknown assassins and wounded in the face, you look upon 
him with different eyes. Instead of being grateful to the 
good Turchi, you comport yourself in such a manner to- 
wards him, that I am induced to believe that you hate 
him.” 

“ Hate the Signor Turchi ! ” exclaimed Mary, as if fright- 
ened by the accusation. “ Dear father, do not indulge such 
a thought.” 

“ He is a handsome, dignified gentleman, my child.” 

“Yes, father; he has long been an intimate friend of the 
Signor Geronimo.”* 

Mr. Van de Werve took his daughter’s hand, and said, 
gently : “ Geronimo may be finer-looking to a woman’s eye ; 
but his future depends upon his uncle’s kindness. He is 
young and inexperienced, and he possesses nothing himself. 
The Signor Turchi, on the contrary, is rich and highly 
esteemed in the world as partner and administrator of the 
well-known house of Buonvisi. Think better of your choice, 
Mary ; satisfy my desires and your brothers’ : it is not yet 
too late.” 

Tears filled the eyes of the young girl ; she replied, how- 
ever, with a sweet resignation : “ Father, I am your sub- 
missive child. Command, and I will obey without a murmur, 
and humbly kiss the venerated hand which imposes the 
painful sacrifice. But Geronimo ! poor Geronimo ! ” 

“ Two well-known Italian merchants, both of noble birth, natives 
of Lucca, who were great friends.” — Van Mertens, History of the Low 
Qountries, Vol. I. 


THE AMULET. 


17 


At these words her fortitude forsook her ; she covered her 
face with her hands, and wept bitterly ; her tears fell like 
blight pearls upon the marble floor. 

For some moments Mr. Van de Werve contemplated his 
daughter with ever-increasing pity ; then overcome by the 
sight of her grief, he took her hand, and tenderly pressing 
it, he said to her : “ Cheer up, my dear Mary, do not weep. 
We will see what answer the Signor Deodati will return to 
the conditions I will propose to him. Geronimo is of noble 
birth ; if his uncle will consent to bestow upon him a suit- 
able fortune, your desires shall be fulfilled.” 

“ But, dear father,” said the still weeping girl, “ that de- 
pends upon the magnitude of your demands. If you ask 
impossibilities of the Signor Deodati — ” 

“No, no, have no anxiety,” said Mr. Van de Werve, in- 
terrupting her. “I will endeavor to fulfil my duty as a 
father, and at the same time to spare you any future sorrow. 
Are you satisfied now?” 

Mary silently embraced her father, and her eyes expressed 
such gratitude that Mr. Van de Werve was deeply moved, 
and said, tenderly : 

“ Who could refuse you anything ? Age, experience, pru- 
dence, all yield before one glance of your eye. Conceal 
your emotion ; I hear some one coming.” 

A servant opened the door, and announced, “ The Signor 
Geronimo.” 

The young nobleman thus introduced was remarkable for 
his fine form, and the graceful elegance of his manners and 
carriage. His complexion was of that light and clear brown 
which adds so much to the manly beauty of some Southern 
nations. The dark beard and hair, his spirited black eyes, 
gave a singular charm to his countenance, while his calm 
and sweet smile indicated goodness of heart. 

Although upon his entrance he strove to appear cheerful, 
Mary’s eye detected a concealed sadness. 

The dress of Geronimo was simple in comparison with the 
2* B 


18 


THE AMULET. 


rich attire of the other Italian nobles, his compatriots. He 
wore a felt hat ornamented with a long plume, a Spanish 
cloak, a cloth doublet lined with fur, violet satin breeches, 
and gray boots. His modest attire was relieved only by 
the sword which hung at his side ; for the hilt glittered with 
precious stones, and the armorial bearings engraved upon 
it proved him to be of noble birth. 

“ Che la pace sia in quelle casa ! ” (May pesKje be in this 
house !) he said, as he entered the hall. 

He bowed profoundly to Mr. Van de AVerve, and saluted 
him most respectfully ; but thel:races of tears which he per- 
ceived on Mary’s face so startled him that he interrupted 
his ceremonious greetings, and fixed his eyes inquiringly 
upon her. She had been weeping, and yet she smiled joy- 
ously. 

“Mary is naturally very susceptible. Signor Geronimo,” 
said Mr. Van de AVerve. “ I was speaking to her of her 
beloved mother, and she wept. You appear, and she smiles 
as though she knew no sorrow.” 

The young girl did not await the conclusion of this ex- 
planation ; before her father had finished* speaking, she led 
her lover to the window, pointed to the weathercock, and 
said : “ Look, Geronimo, the wind is from the west.” 

“ I noticed it last night,” replied the young man, with an 
involuntary sigh. 

“ Rejoice then, for to-day your uncle may be in sight of 
the city.” 

“ I do not think so ; however, it is possible,” said the 
young man, sadly. 

“ How coldly you speak, Geronimo !” exclaimed the young 
girl, in surprise ; “ what cloud obscures your soul ? ” 

“ I myself notice something extraordinary in your manner, 
signor,” remarked the father. “You seem dejected; have 
you received bad news of your uncle?” 

Geronimo hesitated for an answer; then, as though en- 
deavoring to drive away unpleasant thoughts, he said, in a 


THE AMULET. 


19 


faltering voice : “ No, no, it is not that. I witnessed just^ 
now near the Dominican Convent something which touched 
me deeply, and I have not yet recovered from the shock. 
Have you not heard of a Florentine merchant named Mas- 
simo Barberi ? ” 

“ Is he noble ? ” asked Mary. “ I do not remember him.” 

“ No, a commoner, but a man highly esteemed.” 

“ I know him well,” said Mr. Van de Werve. “ I met him 
lately in company with Lopez de Galle, for whom he had 
attended to some financial affairs. What have you to tell 
us concerning him ? ” 

“Something terrible, Mr. Van de Werve. I saw the 
corpse of poor Barberi taken out of a sewer ; he had two 
dagger-wounds in his throat. He was undoubtedly attacked 
and slain last night.” 

“ It is sad to see so many murders committed in Antwerp,” 
said Mr. Van de Werve. “This is the fourth during the 
past month. The victims feach time have been either 
Spaniards or Italians, and that vengeance or jealousy was 
the cause is sufficiently proved by the fact that in no case 
have the bodies been despoiled of their money or jewels. 
This custom of lying in wait, attacking and killing each 
other, often without cause, is an outrage both against God 
and man. . And do you not yourself sometimes fear. Signor 
Geronimo, the assassin’s dagger ? ” 

The young man shook his head. 

“ For instance,” continued Mary’s father, “ this is the eve 
of May. I need not ask if you intend to offer to Mary the 
homage of a serenade. It is the custom of your country- 
men to pay this attention to young girls, and you would not 
omit this opportunity were it not for the advice of a man 
of experience. Geronimo, listen to the words of calm reason : 
do not rashly expose yourself to the danger of death ; 
abandon your design this time. Many of your compatriots 
have aspired to Mary’s hand ; they have been less successful 
than you, and on this account they may harbor unkind feel- 
ings towards you.” 


20 


THE AMULET. 


The young man received this advice with a smile which 
indicated its refusal. 

“ It is difficult, sir, to speak of such things in the presence 
of the one who is to be the object of our homage. Permit 
me, however, the liberty to decide upon the manner in which 
I will acquit myself of my duty to this young lady.” 

‘ But permit me, signor, to tell you,” said the old man, in 
an offended tone, “ that it does you no honor to reject the 
advice of a man of experience, in order to carry out an un- 
important fancy. Bashness does not indicate courage, but 
rather an absence of good sense.” 

“ Father,” exclaimed Mary, in a supplicating tone, “ be 
not angry with Signor Geronimo ; he will incur no danger.” 

“ Foolish confidence ! ” said the old man. Why should 
Geronimo think himself less exposed to danger than others ? 
That Geronimo should be rash is excusable ; but, Mary, you 
deserve a severe reprimand for encouraging your friend in 
his perilous design.” 

Tlie young girl bowed her head at this reproof of her 
father, and murmured as if to excuse herself : “ Geronimo 
has a relic, father.” 

This revelation embarrassed the young man, and he 
glanced reproachfully at Mary, 

She said, caressingly : 

“ Don’t be displeased, Geronimo ; show the relic to my 
father, and he will then know why you do not fear that any 
accident will happen to you.” 

The young man felt that he could not refuse Mary’s re- 
quest. He drew from under his doublet an object suspended 
on a steel chain, and, approaching Mr. Van de Werve, he 
placed it in his hand. 

It was a flat medal of greenish copper^ on which were 
engraven unknown letters and signs. A cross between two 
bent sabres, and beneath them a crescent, filled up the 
centre of the medal. At the foot of the cross was a gray 
stone, rudely inlaid. The whole was rough and heavy. 


THE AMULET. 


21 


Mr. Van de Werve examined this medal attentively for 
some time ; he turned it over and over, as though he sought 
to comprehend the signification of this singular emblem. 

“ A relic ! ” he murmured. “ Here are two cimeters, a 
crescent, and cabalistic characters. It is a Mohammedan 
talisman, and, perhaps, an emblem shocking to our holy 
religion ! ” 

“You are certainly mistaken, sir,” replied Geronimo. 
“ Is not the cross placed above the crescent, and would not 
that signify that the faith of Christ has triumphed over the 
doctrines of Mahomet?” 

“But why do you call it a relic?” 

“ Mary so named it, not I. It is an amulet, and if it has 
any power, it derives it from the gray stone beneath the 
cross. This stone is a draconite, taken, at the risk of life, 
from the head of a dragon in the country of the negroes.” 

A half contemptuous smile curled the lips of the old man 
as he contemplated the talisman in silence. At last he said : 
“I remember. Signor Geronimo, to have read in Pliny 
curious details of the draconite and its extraordinary powers, 
but I also remember that the great naturalist forgets to tell 
us the inherent qualities of the stone. Alas ! signor, would 
you trust in this talisman, and believe that it could protect 
you against the dagger of the assassin ? The people of the 
South have a strange piety : in their superstition they con- 
found what is holy with things which owe their eflicacy, 
if they possess any, to the conjurations of sorcerers.” 

The young noble colored slightly, and replied : “You are 
mistaken, sir, as far as I am concerned. For my justifica- 
tion allow me to tell you that this amulet belonged to a 
pilgrim ; that it rested one entire night of Good Friday 
upon the tomb of our Lord at Jerusalem ; but I will be 
candid, and say to you that I do not consider it possessed 
of the power to preserve me from danger. And yet I always 
wear it with the firm and unshaken conviction that it will 
protect me in a critical hour from some misfortune.” 


22 


THE AMULET. 


“Perhaps it belonged to your deceased parents,” said Mr. 
Van de Werve, struck by the singular explanation of the 
young man. 

“ No, sir,” replied Geronimo; “ this amulet is to me a cher- 
ished souvenir of a day upon which God gave me the grace 
to perform a good action. I would willingly tell you how 
the amulet fell into my hands, and why I believe in its 
power to protect me, but it is a long story.” 

“I would, nevertheless, be much pleased if you would 
satisfy my curiosity,” said the old noble. 

“ If you desire it,” replied Geronimo, “ I will comply with 
your wishes. 

“You know that five years ago, when I undertook for the 
first time the voyage- from Lucca to Antwerp, I was made 
prisoner by Algerian pirates, and carried as a slave to Bar- 
bary. I was sold to a Moorish lord, who made me work in 
the fields until my uncle should send the ransom which 
would restore me to liberty. In the same field in which 
some light work was appointed me, I saw an old blind 
woman attached like a mule to a plough, and driven on by 
blows from a heavy stick. She was a Christian slave, whose 
eyes had been put out in wanton cruelty. I learned that 
she was an Italian by birth, a native of a small village in 
the environs of Porto Fiero, a seaport not far from Genoa. 
She had no relatives who could pay her ransom, and she 
had consequently been fastened to the plough like a beast 
of burden until death should come to deliver her. The 
frightful fate of this miserable slave so filled me with com- 
passion, that I shed tears of grief and r^tge when I heard 
afar oflT her piercing cries as the rod of the overseer de- 
scended upon her. One day my indignation was so roused, 
when the pagan wretches had knocked her down and were 
treating her even more cruelly than usual, that I dared to 
defend her by force. Had not my master expected a large 
sum for my ransom, a frightful death would have been the 
punishment of my audacity. After being kept a few days 


THE AMULET. 


23 


in prison and harshly treated, I was sent back to the fields 
to work as before. The condition of the blind slave, was 
not in the least changed ; she was still inhumanly beaten. 
Her misfortunes pierced my heart, and I was maddened by 
my inability to protect from pagan cruelty a woman who 
was my sister by our common faith and a common misfor- 
tune. No longer venturing to have recourse to force, I 
sought other means to mitigate her sufierings. During the 
few hours of repose granted to us, or rather to our overseers, 
I hastened to the blind woman and shared with her the best 
of my food ; I strove to fortify her by the hope that God 
would liberate her from this terrible slavery ; I told her, 
that should I ever become free, I would procure her libera- 
tion, even were it necessary to renounce for years my own 
pleasures that I might amass sufficient for her ransom. I 
spoke to her of our country, of the goodness of God, and of 
the probability of my liberation. The poor blind woman 
kissed ray hands, and called me an angel sent by God to 
illumine the darkness of her life by the sweet rays of con- 
solation and piety. I was only a few months her fellow- 
slave. My uncle, learning my captivity through messengers 
I had employed, sent to Algiers an armed vessel to liberate 
me. Besides the amount of my ransom, he sent me means 
to transport some valuable merchandise from Barbary to 
Italy. When I took leave of the blind woman, I was so 
deeply touched by her sorrow, that I pondered upon the 
means of restoring her to liberty. It is true that in order 
to effect this, I would be obliged to employ a large portion 
of the money sent me by my uncle for the purchase of mer- 
chandise, and I was convinced that my uncle, who was in- 
flexible in exacting fidelity to commercial regulations, would 
overwhelm me with his anger, but my heart gained the 
ascendency over my reason,, and Christian charity triumphed. 
Listening only to my compassion, I ransomed the unfortunate 
woman, and with my own hands I unbound her chains. 
That was the happiest moment of my life.” 


24 


THE AMULET. 


Mary and her father were both touched by the recital of 
the young man. 

“ Oh, Geronimo,” exclaimed Mary, “ may God bless you 
for having been so compassionate to the poor Christian 
slave ! ” 

“You did well, Geronimo,” said Mr.Van.de Werve, “and 
I esteem and love you more for your generosity to the un- 
fortunate blind woman. How happy her unexpected libera- 
tion must have made her ! ” 

“ When I told her she was free, and that she could ac- 
company me to her native land, she was almost wild with 
joy ; she laughed and wept by turns ; she cast herself upon 
the ground, and raising her hands to heaven, thanked God ; 
she embraced my knees and watered my feet with her tears. 
Not knowing how to testify her gratitude, she drew this 
strange amulet from her bosom and presented it to me, con- 
juring me to wear it always. She told me that it possessed 
the power of protecting and saving the one who carried it 
on his person, when all human aid failed or was insufficient. 
As to the origin of the amulet, she only knew that it had 
been brought back from Jerusalem by one of her ancestors, 
who had made a pilgrimage thither in expiation of an in- 
voluntary homicide, and from that time it had been reli- 
giously guarded in their family as a precious relic. She 
had no doubt of its power, and related many strange things 
to justify her faith. She maintained that she owed to the 
amulet her unexpected return to Italy.” 

“Does she still live?” asked Mary. 

“ When in sight of Italy, I put her on board of a boat 
bound to Porto Fiero ; I gave her a small sum of money, 
and begged the boatman to attend to her comforts. Poor 
Teresa Mostajo — that is her name — I doubt not, is living 
peacefully in her native village, and prays much for me. 
This is the only reason why I attribute any virtue to the 
amulet ; I believe in the protection of this sign because it 
has been sanctified by an act of Christian charity, and by 


THE AMULET. 


25 


the grateful prayers of the poor blind woman tormented by 
the pagans for the name of Christ.” 

The old cavalier remained a moment silent, absorbed in 
thought. Then taking the hand of the young man, he said 
to him : “ I did not know you before, Geronimo. I hope it 
may be in my power to prove to you how much your gen- 
erosity ennobles you and elevates you in my esteem ; but 
although your confidence in the amulet rests on so laudable 
a sentiment, I would not rely too much upon it. You know 
the proverb says: ‘Help yourself, and Heaven will help 
you.’” 

“Do not suppose, Mr. Van de Werve, that on that account 
I would be guilty of any foolish imprudence. I know that 
the eye and sword are good sentinels. When I pass through 
the streets at night, I am always well accompanied, and my 
hand never leaves the hilt of my sword. Therefore have 
no anxiety on this point, and permit me to perform my duty 
to her to whom I owe homage and respect.” 

At that moment the painted - glass -windows trembled 
under the stroke of a large clock from some neighboring 
belfry. This suddenly turned Mary’s thoughts into another 
channel. 

“The clock of St. James is striking ten,” she said. 
“ Father, will you walk with me to the dock-yard to see if 
any new ships have arrived ? ” 

“ What is the hour of high tide ? ” her father asked Ge- 
ronimo. 

“At noon,” he replied. 

“ Why need we go so soon to the dock-yard ? ” asked the 
old cavalier. “ Many days may yet pass before the II Sal- 
vatore appears in the Scheldt. Do not fear, Mary, that the 
Signor Deodati will take us by surprise. Don Pezoa, the 
agent of the king of Portugal, has given orders that I shall 
be notified as soon as the galley we are awaiting is signalled 
in the river, at noon,” 

He was iut^rrupted by the entrance of a servant, who 
3 


26 


THE AMULET. 


announced that the Chevalier John Van Schoonhoven,* the 
bailiff, desired to speak with him. 

Geronimo was about to withdraw, but Mr. Van de Werve 
said (o him, cordially : 

Remain, signor ; I will send Petronilla, Mary’s duenna, 
as a companion for her ; the interview with the Chevalier 
Schoonhoven may not detain me long. We will afterwards 
go to the dock-yard, and we will at least enjoy the fine 
weather. Stay, I beg you.” 

Hardly had he left' the hall when an old woman entered, 
and seated herself near the door. She drew a chaplet from 
her pocket, and commenced praying in a low voice. This 
was apparently an habitual act with her, for neither the 
young girl nor the young man took the least notice of the 
duenna. 

Mary approached her lover, and said, gaily: “Rejoice, 
Geronimo ! My father has just promised not to propose 
very heavy conditions to your uncle.” 

“ I am most grateful for his kindness,” said the young 
man, sadly. 

“What can be the matter?” asked Mary, surprised by 
his indifference. “ I noticed you were depressed when you 
first came. Be more hopeful ; perhaps the II Salvatore will 
ascend the Scheldt to-day.” 

“ God grant it may not arrive ! ” said Geronimo, heaving 
a deep sigh. 

“Do you then fear your uncle’s arrival?” exclaimed 
Mary, in an agitated voice. 

“Do not speak so loud, Mary; your duenna must not 
hear what I am about to communicate to you. Yes ; since 
yesterday morning I have dreaded my uncle’s arrival. Pre- 

* The bailiff (schoat) was the representative of the prince in the prose- 
cution of crimes. He alone, and his agents by his orders, could make 
arrests, except in cases of flagrant crime or of persons lying in wait. 
This high functionary was also called the margrave, because the mar- 
grave of the Low Countries was, in virtue of that ofiice, the bailiff of 
the city of Antwerp. 


THE AMULET. 


27 


viously I implored it of Heaven as the choicest blessing, 
and now the thought of it makes me tremble.” 

“ Have you then heard from your uncle ? ” 

“Alas! my friend, at the very moment when all seemed 
the brightest, when I was thanking God for a happiness 
which I thought already mine, a dark cloud comes to over- 
shadow my life. I seem even now to hear my uncle’s voice 
pronouncing the cruel sentence which condemns me to a life- 
long sorrow.” 

The young girl turned deadly pale, -and anxiously awaited 
an explanation of the mystery. 

“ My beloved Mary,” he whispered, “ it is a secret which 
I can only confide to you in part, and which in strict honor 
I should perhaps conceal entirely. Four weeks ago a mer- 
chant, highly esteemed, was left by a curious train of cir- 
cumstances without funds, and he begged me to lend him 
ten thousand crowns. Should I refuse his request, the credit 
of his house would be irretrievably ruined. His name I 
considered sufficient security for ten times the amount he 
wished to borrow. At all events, although it pained me to 
disobey my uncle’s positive injunctions, I could not deny 
the assistance which was asked of me. I lent the ten thou- 
sand crowns, and obtained a receipt with a written promise 
of payment in one month. Yesterday the note fell due; 
my debtor asks a delay until to-morrow. I met him an 
hour ago, and he has not yet obtained the money.” 

“ But if your debtor is rich and powerful, you need not 
indulge your fears to-day; to-morrow, perhaps, he will fulfil 
his promise,” remarked the young girl, with ill-concealed 
anxiety. 

“ My fears may mislead me, Mary, but I am sure that 
my debtor’s affairs are in a very bad condition. At his 
urgent entreaty I made no entry of the loan upon the books, 
in order to conceal the transaction from the clerks ; but still 
I have not the amount in hand. O Mary I my uncle has 
an eagle eye in business affairs ; he will at once discover the 


28 


THE AMULET. 


deficit of ten thousand crowns — a deficit resulting from my 
lending money : a thing he has always warned me against, 
and which, even recently, he strictly forbade. My uncle is 
a good father to me, but this act of disobedience is sufficient 
to deprive me forever of his favor. I foresee many future 
evils.” 

“ Why were you so imprudent, Geronimo ? You ought 
to have refused so large a loan.” 

“ I could not possibly refuse, Mary.” 

“But you hold an acknowledgment of the debt and a 
promise of payment. Summon this merchant before the 
magistrates ; at Antwerp justice is promptly and impartially 
dealt to all.” 

“Impossible!” replied the young man, in a plaintive 
voice ; “ my debtor is a man to whom I owe many obliga- 
tions ; a complaint from me would be the cause of irrepa- 
rable ruin to him. Let us hope that he will succeed in pro- 
curing the ten thousand crowns. He told me even this 
morning that he would endeavor to give me bills of ex- 
change on Spain.” 

“But of whom are you speaking?” said Mary; “your 
language is so mysterious.” 

“ I will not tell his name. Be not offended by my re- 
serve ; there is between merchants a law of secrecy which 
honor forbids us to violate.” 

Mary appeared to respect this law ; but she was evidently 
absorbed in bitter reflections. 

Either the communication of his difficulties to his beloved 
had given him new strength, or the sight of her sorrow 
made him affect a confidence he did not feel, for he said to 
her in a cheerful manner : 

“Come, Mary, you must not yield to discouragement. 
Perhaps I exaggerate the danger. My debtor is a member 
of a house which equals any other in consideration and 
wealth. In a few days, to-day even, or to-morrow, he may 
acquit himself of the debt, and should my uncle arrive be- 


THE AMULET. 


29 


fore the restitution, I will endeavor to delay his examination 
of the books.” 

He took the young girl’s hand, and exclaimed, with joyous 
enthusiasm : “ O Mary, my beloved, may Heaven be pro- 
pitious to our vows ! May the benediction of the priest de- 
scend upon our union! We will pass in Italy the first 
months of our happy life ; Italy — that earthly paradise 
where God has lavished all the treasures of nature, and man 
all the treasures of art.” 

They heard Mr. Van de Werve’s voice in the hall giving 
urgent orders to the servants. 

“ Mary,” said Geronimo, “ your father is coming. I im- 
plore you not to divulge, in any manner, what I have told 
you. Keep my secret even from your father; remember 
that the least indiscretion might cause the ruin of an honor- 
able merchant.” 

“ Make haste, Geronimo ; Mary, prepare for a drive,” ex- 
claimed Mr. Van de Werve, as he entered the hall. “Signor 
Deodati has arrived ; the II Salvatore is in sight. Don Pezoa 
has just sent me information to that effect, and he has placed 
his gondola and boatmen at our service. The weather is 
beautiful and calm ; we will go to meet the II Salvat(yre” 

Mary, as though forgetting in this unexpected news all 
that Geronimo had told her, ran joyfully and put on her 
hood before her duenna had time to approach her. Gero- 
nimo also looked happy, and prepared to meet his uncle 
without loss of time. 

In a few minutes all was ready ; the horses were harnessed 
to the carriage, the great gate was flung open, and the 
equipage was driven rapidly through the street. 

3 * 


30 


THE AMULET. 


CHAPTER II. 

SIGNOR DEODATI. 

O N that day the Scheldt presented at Antwerp a striking 
spectacle. Many ships which had been detained in the 
North Sea by the east wind were approaching the city, with 
their various colored flags floating on the breeze, while, far 
as the eye could reach, the broad expanse of water was 
covered with sails, and still, in the dim horizon, mast after 
mast seemed to arise from the waves as harbingers of an 
immense flotilla. 

The sailors displayed gigantic strength in casting anchor 
and manoeuvring their vessels so as to obtain an advanta- 
geous position. The crews of the different ships vied with 
each other, and exerted themselves so energetically that the 
heavily laden crafts trembled under the strained cables. 
From each arose a song wild and harsh as the sharp creak- 
ing of the capstan, but joyous as the triumphant shout of a 
victorious army. These chants, sung in every tongue of 
the commercial world by robust sailors, seemed, as they were 
wafted over the river to the city, like the long, loud accla- 
mations of a vast multitude. 

The only sounds which could be heard in the midst of 
these confused cries were the voices of the captains speaking 
through the trumpets; and when a Portuguese gallion, 
coming from the West Indies, appeared before the city, a 
salvo of cannon rose like the rolling of thunder above all 
other sounds. 

The sun shone brightly upon this animated scene of 
human activity, and broke and sparkled in colored light 
upon the rippling waves of the broad river. 

Hundreds of flags floated in the air ; gondolas and long- 
boats furrowed the waters; from boat and wharf joyous 
greetings of friends mingled with the song of the sailors. 
Even the wagoners from beyond the Rhine, who had ranged 


THE AMULET. 


31 


their strongly-built wagons near the cemetery of Burg, in 
order to load them with spices for Cologne, could not resist 
the influence of the beautiful May-day and the general 
hilarity ; they collected near the gate of the dock-yard, and 
entoned in their German tongue a song so harmonious and 
sweet, and yet so manly, that every other sound in their 
vicinity was hushed. 

At this moment an elegant vehicle passed the gate of the 
dock-yard, and stopped near the German wagoners as the 
last strain of their song died upon the air. 

A young man, and after him an old man and a young 
girl richly attired, alighted from the carriage. 

Those immediately around, merchants as well as work- 
men, stepped respectfully aside and saluted Mr. Van de 
Werve, whilst glancing admiringly at his daughter. Some 
Italians of lower rank murmured loud enough to reach 
Mary’s ears : “J5Jcco la bionda maraviglia” 

Mr. Van de Werve ordered his people to await him at the 
gate of the dock-yard, and passed on, saluting those whom 
he met, to the place where the Portuguese flag indicated the 
gondola of Lopez de Galle, which was prepared to receive 
him. They threw a carpet across the plank upon which 
Mary was to step in passing into the gondola. Mary, her 
father, and Geronimo entered the boat ; the six oars dipped 
simultaneously into the water, and, pushed by the strong 
arms of the Portuguese sailors, the gondola sped rapidly 
through the waves. Swift as a fish and light as a swan, it 
skimmed the surface of the Scheldt, and made many a turn 
through the numerous vessels until it had succeeded in find- 
ing an open way down the river. Then the sailors exerted 
all their strength, as if to show the beautiful young girl 
what they were capable of in their trade. The gondola, 
obeying the impulse given it by the oarsmen, bounded for- 
ward under each stroke of the oars, and gracefully poised 
itself on the waves caused by its rapid passage. 

Complete silence reigned in the gondola; the sailors 


32 


THE AMULET. 


looked with timid admiration upon the beautiful counte- 
nance of the young girl. Mary, with downcast eyes, was 
persuading herself that Geronimo’s uncle would undoubt- 
edly consent to their union. The young man was absorbed 
in thought, and yielded by turns to joy, hope, and fear. Mr. 
Van de Werve contemplated the city, and seemed to enjoy 
the magnificent spectacle presented by Antwerp when seen 
at a distance, and which, with its lofty towers and splendid 
edifices, rose from the river like another Venice. 

Suddenly Geronimo rose and pointed in the distance, ex- 
claiming, joyously, “See, the II Salvatore!’’ 

Mary, glancing around, eagerly asked: “Where? Is it 
the vessel bearing a red cross on its flag ? ” 

“ No, Mary, it is behind the ships of war ; it is that large 
vessel with three masts — on its flag is a picture of the 
Saviour: II Salvatore.” 

While the gondola rapidly sped on its way, the eyes of 
all were fixed upon the galley, in order, if possible, to dis- 
tinguish the features of those who stood on deck. 

Suddenly Geronimo clapped his hands, exclaiming, “ God 
be praised ! I see my uncle.” 

“Which is he?” inquired Mr. Van de Werve. 

The young man replied, joyously: “Do you not see stand- 
ing on the forecastle five or six passengers who wear parti- 
colored dresses, with plumed hats? In the midst of them is 
a man of lofty stature, completely enveloped in a brown 
cloak. He has long white hair, and his silvery beard looks 
like snow-flakes resting on his dark mantle. That is my 
old uncle. Signor Deodati.” 

“ What a superb-looking old man ! ” exclaimed Mary, in 
admiration. 

“In truth,” said Mr. Van de Werve, “as well as I can 
judge at this distance, his appearance is very striking.” 

“ My uncle inspires respect wherever he goes,” said the 
young man, enthusiastically. “ His sixty-five years appear 
on his brow as an aureola of experience and wisdom ; he is 
learned, good, and generous.” 


THE AMULET. 


33 


And waving his hat, he cried out: “Ah, he recognizes us! 
He salutes us ; he smiles. At last I see him after four years 
of separation. My God, I thank thee for having protected 
him!’’ 

The young man’s joy^ was so great that Mary and her 
father were also moved. 

“ So lively an affection for your uncle does you credit, 
Geronimo,” said Mr. Van de Werve. “God loves a grate- 
ful heart; may He grant you to-day the desires of your 
heart ! ” 

But the young man did not hear these words of encour- 
agement ; standing in the gondola, he waved to his uncle as 
if endeavoring to express to him by signs his joy at seeing 
him. 

The gondola approached the galley, which slowly ascended 
the Scheldt in a favorable wind and with a rising tide. 

The light boat soon gained the large ship. Before the 
ladder was lowered, Geronimo caught the cable of the 
galley, and ere Mary had recovered from her terror, he had 
reached the deck and was in his uncle’s arms. 

Mr. Van de Werve mounted the ladder cautiously, and 
approached Signor Deodati, with whom he exchanged the 
most cordial salutations. 

Mary remained in the gondola ; she saw Geronimo em- 
brace his uncle repeatedly; she rejoiced to perceive that the 
eyes of the old man were filled with tears of emotion. She 
was still more happy when she saw the affability with which 
her father and Geronimo’s uncle conversed together, as 
though they were old friends. 

Very soon the Signor Deodati descended into the gondola 
to accompany Mr. Van d^ Werve and Geronimo to the 
city. 

The Flemish cavalier introduced his daughter to the 
Italian noble. 

The old man gazed upon the ravishing beauty of the 
young girl in speechless admiration. Mary’s lovely features 

C 


34 


THE AMULET. 


were illumined by an enchanting smile which moved the 
old man’s heart ; her large blue eyes were fixed upon him 
with so soft and supplicating an expression that the Signor 
Deodati, extending his hand, murmured : la graziosa 

donzella /” (The beautiful girl !) 

But Mary, encouraged by his look of affection, and un- 
consciously urged by a mysterious instinct, extended both 
hands to the old man, who folded her in his arms and pressed 
her to his heart. 

Geronimo, overjoyed at the reception given to Mary by 
his uncle, turned aside to conceal his emotion. 

“ Iddio vi dia pace in nostra patria ! May God grant you 
peace in our country, Signor Deodati ! ” said Mary, taking 
the old man’s hand. “ Come sit by me ; I am so happy to 
know you. Do not think me bold ; Geronimo has spoken so 
much of you, that I have long respected and loved you. 
And then, in our Netherlands we always welcome a stranger 
as a brother.” 

Signor Deodati seated himself by her as she desired, and 
as the gondola returned to the city, the old man said, in 
surprise : “ But you speak Italian like a native of Lucca. 
How soft and musical my native tongue sounds from your 
lips ! ” 

“ There is my teacher,” said Mary, pointing to Geronimo. 

“ That is not true, my uncle. Her modesty causes her to 
mislead you. Miss Van de Werve speaks equally well both 
Spanish and French, nor is she ignorant of Latin.” 

“Can that be so?” asked the elder Deodati, with an in- 
credulous smile. 

“ That is nothing extraordinary in our city of Antwerp,” 
said Mr. Van de AVerve. “ Most ladies of noble birth, and 
even merchants’ daughters, speak two or three foreign lan- 
guages. It is a necessity rather than a pleasure for us ; for 
since the people of the South will not or can not learn our 
tongue, we are obliged to become familiar with theirs.” 

The Signor Deodati, as though a new and sudden thought 


THE AMULET. 


35 


possessed his mind, seized his nephew’s hand, and fixing his 
eyes affectionately upon him, said in a calm tone : “ I am 
pleased with you, Geronimo. Young as you are, you have 
conducted prudently the affairs of a large commercial house ; 
you have acted as an experienced man ; in order to please 
me, you have denied yourself pleasures which are so seduc- 
tive to youth. Taking the place of your father, I have 
kept a vigilant eye upon you, and it gladdens my old heart 
to know that I have in my successor a virtuous cavalier and 
a prudent merchant. I know your desires, my son. Be not 
disturbed, but hopeful. I undertook a long voyage only to 
recompense you, if possible, for your gratitude.” 

He arose, and said to Mary : “ I am loath to leave you, 
my dear young lady ; but I have a few words to say pri- 
vately to your father. You will excuse me more readily, as 
I yield my place to Geronimo.” 

Saying this, he walked with Mr. Van de Werve to the 
extremity of the boat, where both seated themselves upon a 
bench. 

Trembling with fear, hope, and joyous anticipations, Mary 
and Geronimo watched the two parents, endeavoring to 
divine from the expression of their countenances the result 
of their conversation. At first both were perfectly calm; 
by degrees they grew more excited; the derisive smile on 
the lips of Mr. Van de Werve betrayed the bitterness of his 
feelings, as the Signor Deodati in a decided manner counted 
on his fingers. They were discussing the great affair — the 
dowry and inheritance. Their only thought was money ! 

Geronimo turned pale as he saw his uncle shake his head 
with evident dissatisfaction; and Mary trembled as she 
noticed the displeased expression of her father. 

The private conversation lasted a long time, and still took 
no favorable turn ; on the contrary, the two old men ceased 
speaking, as though displeased with each other. 

Signor Deodati addressed a question to Mr. Van de Werve, 
to which the latter replied negatively. 


36 


THE AMULET. 


Both then arose, and approaching Geroninio and Mary, 
sat down in silence. Their countenances betrayed vexation 
and mutual displeasure. 

The young man, with tearful eyes, looked inquiringly at 
his uncle. Mary bowed her head, but her heaving bosom 
gave evidence of the struggle of her heart. 

For some time there was a painful silence in the gondola. 
Mr. Van de Werve contemplated his daughter, who seemed 
overwhelmed by sorrow. Signor Deodati was deeply moved 
by Geronimo’s earnest gaze. 

The Italian noble was the first to break silence. “ Come, 
sir,’’ he said, “ let us make these young people happy.” 

“ With all my heart, signor ; but what will you do ? My 
daughter is descended from an illustrious house ; she must 
live in the world in a manner to do honor to her birth ; as 
her father, I have duties to fulfil which I cannot disregard.” 

“ Poor Geronimo ! ” said the Signor Deodati, in a tone of 
compassion, and with a deep sigh. “ You would accuse me 
of cruelty, would you not? and this lovely young girl would 
hate the old man for his insensibility. It Avas not for that I 
crossed the seas in my old age.” 

He reflected a few minutes, then extending his hand to 
Mr. Van de Werve, he said: “My lord, I wish to show my 
good-will. I accept entirely your conditions, and in recom- 
pense for my sacrifices I ask only your friendship. Shall 
our children then be happy?” 

Mr. Van de Werve grasped cordially the hand which Avas 
extended to him, and said to his daughter: “Mary, embrace 
this good gentleman ; he will be your second father.” 

Mary cast herself into the arms of the old man ; a cry of 
joy escaped the lips of Geronimo; even the sailors, al- 
though they comprehended but little of Avhat they saAV, 
were touched. 

Whilst they Avere yet exchanging felicitations, the gondola 
swept around the point of land which had concealed the 
city from view, and Antwerp, with its thousand vessels, its 


THE AMULET. 


37 


lofty spires and noble edifices, lay spread out in all its ma- 
jestic beauty before the eyes of Signor Deodati. 

A cry of admiration burst from his lips. 

“ 0 che hella dtta f What a beautiful city ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ What is that magnificent tower, which like sculptured lace 
lifts its beautiful spire proudly to heaven, and like a giant 
looks down upon all others? What are those singular build- 
ings whose rounded cupolas and pointed roofs so far exceed 
in height the surrounding houses? Oh! let the gondola float 
with the current; your city enchants me, and I wish to 
enjoy the view for a few moments.’’ 

Mr. Van de Werve gratified the curiosity of the Italian 
gentleman by pointing out to him the most remarkable 
buildings of the city, saying : “ Before you now is the new 
city constructed at his own expense by Gillibert de Schoon- 
beke — a man to whom Antwerp owes its later increase and 
the creation of countless streets and houses.* Those large 
and massive towers, in which you may notice loopholes, and 
which stand immediately upon the Scheldt, were the ancient 
fortifications of the city. That small, graceful spire is the 
Convent of Faucon; it is called here. Our Lady of Valken- 
broek. Yonder, near the river, is the church of Borgt, the 
oldest temple of our city ; for in 642 a wooden chapel stood 
on the spot, and in 1249 it was consecrated as a parish 
church, just as it now is.f That lofty edifice at the foot of 
the gigantic tower of Notre Dame is the entrepot of Spain. 
Every nation has its own manufactories and magazines, 
where every one may claim the protection of his flag. The 
massive, unfinished tower belongs to the church of Saint 
James ; the original plan was to elevate it above the spire 
of Notre Dame, but the work has been long discontinued 

“ It is estimated that three thousand new houses were either erected 
by himself, or by others through his assistance.” — Mertens & Torfo, 
History of Antwerp. 

f This church was demolished at the commencement of this century. 
The spot upon which it stood is now called the “ Plain of Saint WaU 
burga.” 


4 


38 


THE AMULET. 


for want of funds. Do you see, a little further on, that square 
building surmounted by a dome? It is the palace of 
Fugger, the Croesus of our times: he was elevated to the 
nobility by Maximilian on account of his wealth. Furnish- 
ing money to kings and nations, he sees gold daily pouring 
into his coffers, and if God does not interfere, the royal 
power will bow before that of the opulent banker. On the 
right you have the church of Saint Andrew, and near it 
the convent of Saint Michael, where our Emperor Charles 
stays when he visits his good city of Antwerp.” * 

While the gondola was skimming over the surface of the 
water, and Mr. Van de Werve was explaining to Signor 
Deodati the various edifices which were worthy of remark, 
there stood upon the shore, at a corner of the dock-yard, a 
man who coolly followed the boat with his eyes, and who 
endeavored to comprehend what was passing in the gondola, 
and to discover what might be the emotions of the young 
man and the young girl who were seated within it. 

Notwithstanding the fine weather, the man was enveloped 
in an ample cloak, and wore a hat with broad brim, over 
which fell a purple plume. His doublet was of gold cloth, 
and his breeches were of brown satin. At his side glittered 
the jewelled hilt of a sword. 

He was of lofty stature, and his whole bearing indicated 
noble birth ; his style of dress and black hair and eyes at- 
tested his Italian origin. The most remarkable thing about 
his person was a long narrow scar across his face, as though 
he had been wounded by a sharp blade. The mark was not 
disfiguring, particularly when his features were in repose ; 
but when he was agitated by some violent passion or uncon- 
trollable emotion, the edges of the scar assumed different 
hues, and appeared of a dull white mixed with red and 
purple. 

^ In the History of Antwerp, by Mertens & Torfo, Part IV., chapter 
iii., is found a view of the city, from the banks of the Scheldt, as it was 
in 1556, an4 details concerning the principal edifices. 


THE AMULET. 


39 


At tlie moment of which we speak his eyes were lixed 
upon the gondola with an expression of irritated jealousy, 
aud his lips were strongly contracted. The color of the 
scar had changed with his increasing emotion, and it was 
of a deep red. He stood so near the water that his feet 
touched it, and thus he prevented any one from passing 
before him and witnessing the tumult of his soul. 

Even the peculiar expression of his countenance did not 
betray the current of his thoughts ; but certainly he was 
preoccupied by no good design, for his whole demeanor be- 
spoke a 'wild despair and burning jealousy. 

For some time he watched in the same attitude the course 
of the gondola, which drifted with the current, until he saw 
the oarsmen seize their oars, and he supposed they were 
about to land. 

Then his whole frame shook convulsively under his efforts 
to control his emotion. He became exteriorly calm, the 
scar on his cheek paled, and in an unconcerned manner, 
with a light step and bright smile, he walked along the 
wharf to the spot where he supposed the gondola would stop. 

Geronimo, who had seen him approaching, sprung upon 
the bank before the boat was moored, and ran to him with 
singular haste. He took his hand, and said in an under- 
tone : “ Ehhene, caro mio Simone f Have you obtained the 
money, Simon ? My uncle has arrived. Should he discover 
that the money- vault lacks so considerable a sum, you and 
I are both lost. But you have the money, have you not ? 
You will give it to me to-day ?” 

“ Pity me, Geronimo,” said the other, sighing. “Various 
fatal circumstances render all my efforts unavailing.” 

“You have not the money?” murmured the young man, 
despairingly. 

“No ; to-morrow, or perhaps day after to-morrow.” * 

“ Geronimo went to Simon and demanded payment of the sum lent, 
and for which he held a note. Turchi made various excuses, and put 
off payment from day to day.” — Matteo Bandello. 


40 


THE AMULET. 


Good heavens ! suppose my uncle reproves me in anger. 
I implore you, Simon, to procure the amount. Do not cause 
my destruction ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” muttered the other, in a hoarse, altered voice, 
“ were I to be the cause of any misfortune to you, I would 
avenge you upon myself in a bloody manner.” 

“ No, no,” said the young man, in a compassionate tone, 
“ banish these horrible thoughts. I will wait ; I will seek a 
delay, and endeavor to divert my uncle’s attention for a few 
days. Alas ! I am filled with anxiety : at the very moment, 
too, that my uncle has consented to my marriage with 
Mary ! ” 

Simon’s face became fearfully contorted. 

“Your uncle has consented?” he said, in a stifled voice. 
“And Mr.^Van de Werve?” 

“ He agrees to it also. O Simon ! pardon me my happi- 
ness. I know, my poor friend, that this news is most painful 
to you ; but did we not loyally promise each other, that were 
one of us to succeed in our suit, it should not break our 
long- tried friendship ? ” 

“Fool! God has abandoned me!” muttered the other 
between his teeth. 

“ There is my uncle with Mr. Van de Werve,” said Gero- 
nimo. “ Cheer up, Simon ; hide your emotion. When I am 
my own master, I will aid you in your affairs. In the mean- 
time put your trust in God.” 

The man with the scar made a powerful effort to control 
himself, and advancing cheerfully to meet Mr. Van de 
Werve, he said to his companion : “My emotion was natural 
under the circumstances ; now that the blow has fallen, it is 
all over. Pained as I am, Geronimo, I congratulate you 
cordially. If I could only obtain the money, and spare you 
anything disagreeable ! I will do all in my power.” 

Mr. Van de Werve joined them, and after the first salu- 
tations said to the old Deodati : “ I am happy to present to 
you my friend, the Signor Simon Turchi, who is at the head 


THE AMULET. 


41 


of the house of the Buonvisi, and who frequently does me 
the honor to visit me.” 

“Ah! I know him well,” said Deodati, cordially taking 
Simon’s hand. “ The signor is from Lucca, and the son of 
an esteemed friend.” 

“You are welcome this side of the Alps, Signor Deodati,” 
replied Simon Turchi. “My father often spoke of your 
mutual friendship. May God grant you prosperity in Bra- 
bant ! ” 

“I am under many obligations to you, signor,” replied 
the old Deodati, “for the affectionate interest you have 
shown in my nephew. That my business affairs have been 
as well transacted in this country as though I had been here 
myself, I am indebted to your experience and wise counsels. 
I know from Geronimo’s letters that he is sensible of the 
favor and deeply grateful for it.” 

Simon Turchi was about to disclaim the praise bestowed 
upon him, but the carriage drew near, and Mr. Van de 
Werve said : 

“ I hope, signor, that you will honor us with your com- 
pany this evening. We will pass together a few hours with 
our noble guest.” 

Simon excused himself, saying that some important com- 
mercial affairs demanded his attention; but as Mary and 
Geronimo urged him to accept the invitation, he promised 
to see them, at least for a short time. 

They bade adieu as the carriage drove out of the gate of 
the dock-yard. 

Simon Turchi followed it with his eyes, immovable as a 
statue, until the sound of the rolling wheels was lost in the 
distance. Then he convulsively crossed his arms and dropped 
his head, as though the certainty of a terrible misfortune 
had overwhelmed him. 

He remained a long time plunged in thought ; but he was 
startled from his reverie by a vehicle which dashed along 
near him, and by the call of the driver warning him of 
4 * 


42 


THE AMULET. 


his danger. He stepped aside and looked around him, as 
though seeking a way of escape from the wharf and the 
crowd of workmen. He walked slowly towards the church 
of Saint Walburga, and around the wall enclosing the 
cemetery. He entered, wandered awhile among the tombs, 
until reaching an obscure spot, where he was concealed by 
an angle of the church, he paused. 

He pressed his brow with his hands, as if to shut out 
painful thoughts ; the scar on his face frequently changed 
color, and at intervals his whole frame shook with emotion. 
At last, as if his reflections had assumed a determined form, 
he muttered: 

“ The arm-chair? it is not completed ! And then he would 
be too late. A dagger, a sword, an assassin lying in wait ? 
If Julio were only more courageous ; but he is a cowardly 
boaster. Why did I take into my service such a poltroon ? 
He would not dare run the risk of striking a fatal blow ,* 
but I can force him to it, force him even to be bold. I need 
but pronounce his real name ; but the murder of a friend is 
a frightful crime ; and then, perhaps, to be discovered, be- 
trayed — to die on a scaffold like a common felon — I, the 
head of the house of the Buonvisi ! ” * 

This thought made him shudder. After a few moments^ 
reflection, he said, more calmly : “ I will go to the bailiff* 
Van Schoonhoven; he has espoused my cause with Mr. 
Van de Werve; he will, perhaps, be offended that Mary’s 
hand has been disposed of contrary to his urgent solicita- 
tions. Perhaps he may have influence to prevent the mar- 
riage.” 

An ironical smile curled his lip. 

“ Fool that I am ! ” he muttered. “ Aud the ten thousand 
crowns ? and the disgrace of bankruptcy ? Oh, the infernal 
thought! might I not take from a corpse the acknowledg- 
ment of the debt? I will go to Mr. Van de Werve’s; I 

* “A fierce desire of vengeance took possession of Simon, and he 
Bought to kill Geronimo.” — Matteo Bandello. 


THE AMULET. 


43 


must speak with Geronimo ; I must know where this even- 
ing he — 

The words died upon his lips, and a sudden terror shook 
him from head to foot. 

He had heard behind him the voice of a man who spoke 
in a low tone, and who seemed to be a spy. 

Could he have heard what Simon Turchi had so impru- 
dently spoken in this solitary corner of the cemetery ? 

Turning in his anguish, he saw two persons, three or four 
steps behind him, looking at him with a mocking air. 

Under other circumstances the Italian cavalier would cer- 
tainly have called the unknown men to account for their 
insolent curiosity ; but fear deprived him of all courage and 
energy. 

He dropped his head, concealed his face as far as possible, 
crossed the cemetery with long and rapid strides, and dis- 
appeared behind the wall of the enclosure. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE PALACE OF SIMON TURCHI, AND WHAT OCCURRED 
THERE. 

OT far from the bridge De la Vigne, Simon Turchi had 



a magnificent dwelling, where the offices of the com- 
mercial house of Buonvisi were situated ; but he possessed 
also, at the extremity of the city, pleasure-grounds, where 
in fine weather he was accustomed to invite his friends and 
acquaintances to festivals, banquets, and concerts. His 
domains were near the church of Saint George, surrounded 
by grounds belonging to the hospital. 

Exteriorly it appeared to be only a wall of enclosure, 
shaded by lofty trees,' and without openings. Against the 


44 


THE AMULET. 


horizon were seen two glittering weathercocks surmounting 
two small towers arising in the midst of foliage. Within there 
was, however, a vast garden diversified with winding paths, 
flowery parterres, hillocks, and grottos. Here and there, 
scattered among the thickets of verdure, appeared marble 
statues representing principally the gods of pagan mythology. 
In the centre of the garden was a pond, in which seemed to 
float a crowd of monstrous animals, such as dragons, basi- 
lisks, lizards, and salamanders. It was a fountain ; and when 
the robinets were opened these monsters spouted the water 
in every direction from their eyes and mouths. 

But at the bottom of the garden and at some distance 
from the wall of enclosure was an antique pavilion of gray- 
stone, the walls of which were nearly covered with ivy, and 
which, in spite of their dark hue, presented a very pictu- 
resque appearance. 

With the exception of the small and narrow windows, 
which were protected by iron bars, and the staircase of slate 
which gave admittance, this heavy building presented nothing 
remarkable, unless it were two round turrets, which rose 
above the surrounding roofs and even above the gigantic 
trees in its vicinity. 

The garden had been evidently long neglected, for all 
the walks were covered with weeds, and in the flower-beds 
were the half decayed props which had supported the plants 
of the previous autumn. The statues were spotted by the dust 
and rain ; a fine moss covered the monsters of the fountains, 
and the little water remaining in the pond was stagnant. 

These evidences of the absence of man, the sombre hue 
of the edifice, the shrubs growing untrimmed, but, above 
all, the complete silence, gave a mournful air of abandon- 
ment to the place, and in this solitude the soul was neces- 
sarily filled with painful reflections. 

It was already late in the afternoon ; the sun was about 
to sink below the horizon, its slanting rays illumined only 
the weathercocks on the top of the towers. Within the 


THE AMULET. 


45 


thickets and at the entrance of the grottos, night already 
reigned. Not the slightest sound was heard in this place. 
The noise of the people at work in the city resounded in the 
air, the chiming of the church-bells was wafted from the 
distance over this solitary dwelling ; but as no sound arose 
from the habitation itself, the distant hum from an active 
multitude rendered the silence of the spot all the more 
striking. 

Only at intervals a dull sound like the grating noise of a 
file seemed to issue from the old edifice ; but it was so indis- 
tinct and so often interrupted that it was not sufiScient to 
destroy the solitude and silence of the place. 

Suddenly two heavy strokes, as if from a hammer, re- 
sounded through the garden. Some one had knocked at the 
exterior door for admittance. 

A few moments afterwards a man appeared on the stair- 
case of the pavilion, and descended into the garden. 

He was tall and slender ; his hair and beard were red, 
and a red moustache covered his upper lip. His cheeks, 
though sunken and emaciated, were very red. His eyes 
were wild in their expression. His arms and legs were of 
extraordinary length ; his movements were heavy and slow, 
as though his limbs had been dislocated and his muscles 
without strength. 

His dress denoted him to be a menial : he wore a vest of 
black leather, a red doublet and breeches of the same color, 
without embroidery or ornament. 

At this moment his sleeves were rolled up, and his thin 
arms were bare to the elbows. In his hand he held a file, 
and apparently he had been interrupted in some urgent 
work by the knock at the door. Having reached the outer 
door, he drew a key from his doublet, and asked in Italian : 

Who knocks ? ” 

Open the door, Julio ; it is your companion Bernardo,’’ 
was the reply in the same tongue. 

“ Of course, on the way you stopped at the Gamely and 


46 


THE AMULET. 


drank some pots of Hamburg beer ? Did you bring me as 
much as a pint?” asked the man with the red beard. 
“Nothing? have you nothing? I have worked until I am 
exhausted ; I am dying of hunger, and no one thinks of 
me. Let me see the spring.” 

Saying these words, he took from his companion’s hands 
a bent steel spring and examined it attentively, closing and 
opening it as if to judge of its form and power of resistance. 

Bernardo was a deformed man of low stature ; the pro- 
jection on his back might be styled a hump — it was so 
prominent. His physiognomy denoted pusillanimity; but 
there was, at the same time, a malicious sparkle in his eye, 
and it was with a mocking smile that he contemplated the 
man with the red beard. 

The latter said to him in a commanding tone : “ The spring 
appears to be good. Go bring me a pint of Bhenish wine 
from the Saint George.” 

“ You know well that our master has forbidden it. Let 
me go ; the signor ordered me to return immediately to the 
factory.” 

“ Get me the wine, or I will break this spring in a thou- 
sand pieces over your hump.” 

“Always threatening ! ” muttered Bernardo. “ You know 
I am not wanting in good-will. I will go for the wine ; give 
me the money.” 

“ Money ? I have not a farthing in my pocket. Lend 
me the price of this pint.” 

“My purse is empty, Julio; but yours? Our master 
gave you ever so many shillings yesterday. You told me 
so yourself.” 

“ Bah ! the dice made way with the whole of it.” 

“ Hardened gambler ! ” said Bernardo, with a sigh. “ You 
would risk your soul at the gaming-table if any one held 
out to you a gold coin.” 

“ Very likely ! ” replied J ulio, in an indifferent tone ; “ my 
soul is hardly worth more,” 


THE AMULET. 


47 


“What impious words ! We are alone now, but there is 
One above who hears what we say. He will punish you, 
Julio.” 

The red-haired man shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Continue your dissolute habits,” resumed Bernardo ; 
“ lose your money in gambling, drown your senses in intoxi- 
cation : at the end of this path there is a gallows, and behind 
it the devil, to whom all such souls are welcome. Adieu ! 
reflect upon my words, and remember that the justice of 
God will one day demand an account of your life. Adieu ! ” 

Julio sprang towards the small door, locked it, and put 
the key in his pocket. 

“ Cease this trifling,” said the other, evidently ill at ease. 
“Open the door, Julio, or I will complain of you to our 
master.” 

“What do I care for our master?” said the man, laugh- 
ing. “ You say, Bernardo, that I shall end my days on the 
gallows. No, no ; the proverb says, that he who draws the 
sword shall perish by the sword. I have pierced so many 
with my dagger, that my turn must come to fall by the 
dagger. Last night, Bernardo, I had rare sport. I knocked 
down eight, wounded one in the arm, and as to three or four 
others whom I left extended on the ground, my dagger 
knows better than I what mischief was done them. Come 
in with me, and I will tell you all about it.” 

“No, I have not time.” 

“ You must take the time. You shall not leave here until 
you have heard my adventures of last night.” 

“ It is always the same story over again. If I believed 
you, I would suppose that the cemeteries were too small to 
contain the bodies of all whom you have slain. Open the 
door, Julio, and let me go, I beg you.” 

The other took his hand, and dragging him by force into 
the house, said : “ I am here alone all day, with no one to 
whom I can speak one word ; it is enough to paralyze my 
tongue. You shall listen to my adventures whether you 


48 


THE AMULET. 


■wish it or not. Judge, Bernardo, by the recital of my great 
deeds what an honor it is to you to be the comrade of so 
intrepid a man. Be not ill-humored ; you know it is useless 
to resist me. Don’t laugh ; were I to try it, I could toss 
you about like a ball ; but you are my friend, and besides, 
you are too weak to contend with me. Therefore, fear 
nothing.” 

They reached the house and entered a kind of parlor, 
where Julio threw upon the table the spring he held in his 
hand, and seating himself, he said to his companion : 

“ Take a chair, Bernardo. You are about to hear some 
strange adventures. Do you know the ruffian Bufferio? 
He is a jolly fellow, who cares as little for the life of a man 
as for that of a fly. There is not a man in the parish of 
Saint Andrew who does not tremble at the sight of him. 
In a by-street there is a tavern in a large cellar, where one 
can hear the rattling of dice all night long, and they play 
for piles of gold — where it comes from, the devil only 
knows. Late yesterday evening I was passing through this 
street, when the noise of the dice fell upon my ear. You 
must know, Bernardo, that this sound is as enchanting music 
attracting me ; it overpowers my will. I descended into the 
tavern and called for a glass of beer. I seated myself among 
the players, and challenged any of them to play against me. 
I won and lost ; but at last good luck was on my side, and 
my pockets were so full that they could hardly bear the 
weight of the florins. To console the losers, I ordered the 
hostess to bring a pint of wine to each of them ; but in spite 
of my generosity the villains looked at me angrily, and 
seemed to excite each other to take revenge upon me. They 
strove to pick a quarrel. They were like a band of thieves 
and assassins but the rascals saw with whom they had to 
deal. My deflant look, my bold -words, my intrepid counte- 
nance, kept them at a respectful distance from me. Sud- 
denly the dreaded Bufferio entered the cellar. He had no 
sooner learned from his comrades how fortune had favored 


THE AMULET. 


49 


me than he challenged me to play with him. It was just 
what I wanted. I don’t know how it happened, but I lost 
every game. Each time we doubled the stakes ; a cold sweat 
bathed my brow as I saw florin after florin quietly put in 
the pocket of my adversary, until I had only one farthing 
left. This time fortune favored me; but Bufierio insisted 
that the dice had not been fairly thrown, and he swept the 
table of all the money staked. I sprang to my feet and 
called him a cheat. He instantly dealt me a heavy blow. 
Furious and thirsting for vengeance, I drew my dagger. 
Immediately twenty daggers glittered above my head. Per- 
haps, Bernardo, you think that I trembled? You do not 
know me ; when I am thus in the midst of danger, an entire 
army could not terrify me ; for in whatever other qualities 
I may be deficient, I do not lack courage and intrepidity. 
When I saw the villains about to rush upon me, I darted 
forward like a lion, and I cut about on every side so furi- 
ously with my dagger, that all, even to the gigantic Bufferio, 
fled from the cellar. I pursued them into the street ; there 
the combat recommenced ; but my adversaries fared badly. 
In a few moments Bufierio lay dead upon the ground be- 
tween two of his comrades ; the others, being badly wounded, 
had taken flight. I stood alone upon the field of battle, a 
triumphant conqueror ! I remained in the same spot for a 
quarter of an hour, to see if any other enemies would pre- 
sent themselves, but the wretches had had enough for one 
night.” 

Bernardo listened to this recital with an incredulous smile. 
When it was concluded, he silently shook his head. 

“Well ! what have you to say of this adventure?” asked 
Julio. “ Might it not be narrated in the chronicles as an 
heroic adventure ? ” 

“ Certainly ; in your place many others would have died 
of fright. But this morning I saw this Bufierio, whom you 
declare to be dead, walking alive in the public square.” 

“ Impossible ; you are mistaken.” 

5 D 


50 


THE AMULET. 


“ Perhaps so ; but I know the ruffian well, for I have twice 
seen him in the pillory.” 

“ If he is not dead, he will certainly not be able to make 
his appearance in the streets for six months to come.” 

“Of course, you took your money from Bufferio?” 

“How could I?” 

“ Since he lay lifeless at your feet, why did you not recover 
the money he had stolen from you ? ” 

The red-haired man was at a loss for an answer ; but after 
awhile he stammered out: “You are right. In the hurry 
of the struggle I did not think of it, and then I had not 
the time: the watchmen ran on hearing the noise of the 
affray, and you may imagine that I did not care to fall into 
the hands of the bailiff.” 

“ I do not understand you ; it seems to me you mentioned 
having remained a quarter of an hour upon the spot,” said 
Bernardo, with a slight smile. “ I suppose, Julio, there was 
much blood shed.” 

“ It flowed in torrents.” 

Bernardo eyed his companion from head to foot in great 
surprise. 

“ I would like to ask you something, but you might not 
understand the joke, and you would be angry with me,” he 
said. 

“ Say candidly what you think,” replied his companion. 

“ I am extremely surprised, Julio, that there is not the 
smallest drop of blood, not the least spot, upon your clothes. 
With your permission, I will say you dreamed all that?” 

Julio sprang from his seat, gnashed his teeth, and looked 
at his companion as if ready to devour him. 

“What! you dare to laugh at me? Are you then tired 
of life? Fool ! were I only to lay my hand upon you, you 
would be crushed to atoms.” 

Bernardo arose also, and said, in a tone half ironical and 
half supplicating: “Pardon me, Julio; I believe all you 
told me, and I never doubted your marvellous courage. If 


THE AMULET. 


61 


sometimes I laugh at serious things, do not be offended ; this 
kind of joking is usual with men.” 

“ If you were not so feeble and powerless a being, I would 
have already laid you at my feet,” said Julio; “as it is, I 
long to plunge my dagger in your breast.” 

“ Leave it in its scabbard, Julio, and I will go to buy you 
a stoop * of Hamburg beer.” 

“Ah, hypocrite ! ” exclaimed Julio, “then you have money. 
I will renew my friendship for you, if you will do me a 
favor. I am in absolute want of money ; lend me a few 
shillings, and the first one who insults you, I promise you, 
shall be a dead man.” 

“ But, Julio, were I to give them to you, you would gamble 
with them at once.” 

“No, you are wrong this time; I would pay for some 
things our master ordered me to buy yesterday.” 

Bernardo drew a small purse from his doublet, and handed 
to his companion its scanty contents. 

“ Here is all I possess,” he said. “ I fear they will go like 
the others.” 

Julio thrust the shillings into his pocket, and muttered : 
“ I do not deny that I may go this evening to the parish of 
Saint Andrew, to see if any one would dare play against 
me.” 

“ Julio, Julio, I pity you !” said Bernardo, sadly. “ I do 
not wish to lecture you ; but you have an unfortunate and 
aged mother who requires your aid. You are always talk- 
ing of sending her assistance, and for six months past every 
farthing has been lost at play. Perhaps in the meantime 
your mother has suffered for want of food.” 

This reproach seemed to affect Julio deeply. He looked 
down abashed, and then said, dejectedly: “Bernardo, never 
speak to me again of my mother. You touch the only 
sensitive spot in my heart. And yet you are right ; I am a 
monster! Oh! this miserable play! I will do better in 
future. Go away now, and let me continue my work.” 

^ A measure of four pints. 


62 


THE AMULET. 


“ What are you making ? ” asked Bernardo. “ This is the 
third spring you have ordered, and each time from a different 
locksmith.” 

“ It is a secret known only to my master and myself.” 

“ A secret ?” said Bernardo. “ Springs, a secret ! What 
can it mean?” 

“ Come with me, and I will show you. The signor may 
be angry if he chooses, I don’t care. But, Bernardo, you 
must be as silent as one deaf and dumb.” 

He conducted his companion to a room, and throwing 
open the door showed him a large arm-chair, which in form 
was like the other chairs around, excepting that from each 
arm extended two bent springs. 

“ This is what I have worked at, without stopping, for 
four days. I wish the bewitched chair to the devil ! I have 
already exhausted myself ; but the new spring is good, and 
in a few minutes I will have finished.” 

Bernardo examined attentively the unfinished chair, and 
looked frightened. 

“ Heavens ! ” he exclaimed, “ a chair for a trap ! Do you 
entrap men here ? ” 

Julio nodded his head affirmatively. 

Pale from anxiety, Bernardo muttered: “May God pre- 
serve me! What crime is in contemplation? Does our 
master know anything of this terrible piece of furniture ? ” 

“Was it not from him that you received the order to bring 
me the springs?” 

The humpbacked man made the sign of the cross, and 
muttered a few indistinct words. 

Suddenly Julio laughed immoderately, and slapping him 
on the shoulder exclaimed : “ Foolish boy I he already sees 
a victim in this chair, and the blood flowing as freely as in 
some old woman’s story. Be at ease, Bernardo ; this is done 
only to satisfy a caprice of our master. He intends to clean 
the garden and repair the fountain. He will place this arm- 
chair in an arbor near the fountain; the guest who seats 


THE AMULET. 


63 


himself in it will be caught, and the salamanders may throw- 
the water upon him as long as they please. It is a mania 
of our master.” 

What a coward I am ! ” said Bernardo, laughing at his 
own fears. “ Open the door now, Julio ; I should have been 
at the factory long ago.” 

They both left the house talking together, and they turned 
their steps towards the exterior door. 

The red-haired man soon returned alone. He removed 
the spring from the parlor-table, and took it with him to 
the room where he had terrified his companion by the reve- 
lation of his master’s secret. He seated himself on the 
ground near the chair, and taking some tools he began to 
arrange the spring, and to try if it would produce the effect 
intended. Whilst thus occupied he laughed aloud, and 
said : 

“ The stupid humpback ! One could make him believe 
that cats laid eggs ! He believed all I told him of Bufferio 
and his comrades as though they were gospel truths. The 
coward ! To empty his pocket of its last farthing, it is only 
necessary to frighten him ! I have two shillings. Night is 
coming on, and it is growing dark. Presently I will go to 
the tavern of the ‘ Silver Dice.’ I wdll play at first with a 
■few farthings, then for white pieces, at last for florins and 
even crowns ! This time I will stop playing as soon as my 
pocket is full of money. Then at least I will send some- 
thing to my poor mother. In what condition is she now ? 
Perhaps she no longer lives on earth ; that would be better 
for her. Poor and blind, and her only dependence a son 
who must conceal his true name in order to escape the gal- 
lows; a gambler, drunkard — in a word, a real jail-bird! 
Yes, if fortune favors me, I will send her something. The 
signor promised me to have it conveyed to Lucca. Ah! 
the spring: is fixed. Let me see if the machine does its 
duty.” 

He rose, placed his hand on the arm of the chair as if 
5 * 


54 


THE AMULET. 


about to take his seat in it ; suddenly lie sprang aside, ex- 
claiming : “ Fool that you are, you were about to do a fine 
thing ! I would have been caught by my own trap ; and if 
the signor had forgotten to come this evening, I would have 
remained clasped in that traitorous chair. But don’t I hear 
some one coming ? A key grating in the lock of the garden 
gate? Yes, it is the Signor Turchi.” 

Seating himself on the ground before the arm-chair, with 
his back turned to the door, Julio began to work with ap- 
parent eagerness ; and in order to assume a greater air of 
indifference, he sang snatches of a well-known song. 

The door opened, and Signor Turchi stood upon the 
threshold. He remained for an instant motionless, contem- 
plating in silence his servant, who continued his song as 
though unconscious of the presence of his master. 

Simon slowly approached him and laid his hand upon 
his shoulder ; but before he could say a word, Julio drew 
his dagger from its scabbard, and springing to his feet, made 
a motion as if to stab his master. 

“ 0 eieloy e voi signor f Is it you, signor?” cried Julio. 
“You slip through the garden like a thief. It is almost 
dark ; an accident might have happened.” 

“ Stop your foolish jesting, Julio. A man does not kill 
another without finding out with whom he is dealing.” 

“ Do you think so, signor ? Why, if five or six men were 
to take me by surprise, not one would be left alive.” 

“ You speak as if the life of a man were of no more value 
than that of a bird.” 

“ Less, signor ; it is not worth a farthing.” 

“We will have proof of this,” said Simon, in a peculiar 
tone, as he turned towards the door. “ For years I have 
heard you boasting ; this evening I will discover what you 
are — a brave man or a coward.” 

Julio drew himself to his full height, put his arms akimbo, 
and was about to speak, but his master prevented him. 

“No useless words I” said Simon, imperiously. “Light 
the lamp, and come to my bed-room.” 


THE AMULET. 


65 


He left the room without making any inquiry in regard 
to the chair, and ascended a winding staircase. Opening 
the door of a large room, he threw himself upon a chair, 
and rubbed his brow with his hands like a man tormented 
by painful thoughts. 

After awhile his hands fell upon his knees, and his eyes 
wandering in feverish agitation through the dim twilight, he 
muttered : 

“ At last it is decided ! the murder of a friend ! He my 
friend ? He is my mortal enemy ! Has he not deprived me 
of Mary’s love? Has he not destroyed all my hopes? Has 
he not devoted me to eternal infamy? His uncle has con- 
sented; he will become his partner, the proprietor of an 
immense fortune, the husband of Mary — of Mary, who was 
destined by her father to be my wife! He will be powerful, 
rich, and happy; he will be surrounded by every luxury; 
he will astonish the world by the magnificence of his style 
of living, and from the pinnacle of his grandeur he will 
cast an eye of lawful pride upon Turchi dishonored and 
ruined I Miserable dog that I am I Deodati will discover that 
I owe him ten thousand crowns. He will appeal to the courts 
of justice, and I will be condemned as a rogue; they will 
discover that I have spent more than I possessed. Outraged, 
despised, mocked, shall I fall forever into the abyss of misery 
and infamy? No, no; let him die! His death alone can 
save me. If he perishes as I have planned, I no longer owe 
him the ten thousand crowns ; Mary becomes my wife, and 
I am master of her dowry. In that case I am still the 
powerful, honored chief of the house of Buonvisi! But 
time presses; to-morrow it maybe too late! I hear Julio 
coming. Upon him rests all my hope.” 

The servant entered and placed a lighted candle upon the 
table. 

“Now, signor,” he said, “to what trial do you wish to 
subject my courage? However difficult it may be, it will 
not be beyond my strength.” 


56 


THE AMULET. 


“Close the blinds; lower the windows,” said Turchi; “sit 
down and listen attentively to my words. I am about to 
talk to you of an important afiair.” 

The red-haired man regarded his master with a malicious 
and incredulous smile, but he took the seat indicated to him 
without a word of comment. 

“Julio,” said Simon, “ I am dejected and undecided. There 
is a man who pretends to be my friend, but who has secretly 
been my bitter enemy. He has always artfully calumniated 
and deceived me, and injured me in my fortune and honor; 
he has pushed his machinations to such a degree that I will 
soon be condemned to eternal infamy and misery, unless, by 
a bold stroke of vengeance, I break through the snares he 
has laid for my destruction. Be calm, Julio ; it does you 
honor to be inflamed with anger against the enemies of your 
master; but listen. I discovered, three days ago, that it 
was this treacherous friend who paid the assassins to inflict 
the wound of which I still bear the scar on my face. Thus, 
he first shed my blood and attempted my life ; now he plans 
my ruin and dishonor. Julio, what would you do in my 
place?” 

“ What would I do ? Ask my dagger, signor ; if it could 
speak, it would tell you of wonderful exploits.” 

“Then you would not hesitate to undertake a difficult 
task ? ” 

“ Hesitate ! you insult me, signor. I would not hesitate 
were twenty swords brandished over my head.” 

“Understand, Julio, that had I doubted your intrepidity, 
I would not have spoken to you of such grave affairs. I 
give you the highest proof of confidence by intrusting my 
vengeance to your hands. I will tell you who is my enemy, 
and where you can strike him secretly. Kill him, and you 
shall be liberally recompensed.” 

This mission appeared unpalatable to Julio. 

“Yes,” he stammered; “but that is not my way of acting. 
I will pick a quarrel with your enemy, and if he dares to 
raise a finger against me, he is a dead man.” 


THE AMULET. 


67 


“ Impossible ; he is of noble birth/’ 

“And if I insulted him, his valets would fall upon me 
and beat me.” 

“ That is true. There is but one way, Julio ; I will tell 
you where you can stab him at night without the least 
danger.” 

“ I ? shall I treacherously kill your enemy ? This gentle- 
man has never injured me. Since how long has it been the 
custom for valets to avenge the grievances of their masters ? 
It is your own afiair, signor.” 

“ You value the life of a man as little as a farthing, you 
said,” replied Simon Turchi, with bitter irony ; “ and now 
you allege the most puerile reasons as excuses. You are a 
coward, Julio.” 

“ I am not ; but I do not choose to lie in wait and stab a 
man in the dark.” 

“ That is a feint, a subterfuge, to conceal your cowardice.” 

“ Since it is so simple and easy, why do you not deal the 
blow yourself, signor ? ” 

The scar on Simon Turchi’s face became of a livid white ; 
his whole frame trembled with rage ; but by a strong effort 
he controlled his emotion, and after a few moments he said, 
with a contemptuous smile upon his lips : 

' “ Four years ago I took you into my service through pity ; 
I have paid you well, excused all your faults, your intoxi- 
cation, your passion for gambling ; I have not dismissed you, 
although you have deserved it a hundred times ; and now, 
when for the first time you can be useful to me, you have 
not the courage. I wished to try you. What I said was 
only a jest. To-morrow, Julio, you will leave my service. 
You are a liar and a coward.” 

“ Do not condemn me so severely, signor,” said the ser- 
vant, in a supplicating tone of voice. “ I am willing to risk 
my life a thousand times for you ; but to lie in wait for an 
unknown man and kill him deliberately — this is an infamous 
crime of which I am not capable.” 


68 


THE AMULET. 


“ Hypocrite ! ” exclaimed Simon Turchi ; “ you speak as 
though I were ignorant of your past history. If a price is 
set upon your head in the city of Lucca, if at this moment 
you are under sentence of death, is it not because you as- 
sassinated or helped to assassinate the Judge Voltai?” 

These words struck Julio with terror. He replied, 
humbly : 

“ Signor, I have already told you that in this affair I was 
more unfortunate than guilty. I was upon the spot where 
the murder was committed, and I was arrested with those 
who gave the fatal blow. Believe me, I knew nothing of 
their designs. I do not deny that in a contest or quarrel I 
spare no one ; but up to this moment -my dagger has never 
shed blood without provocation.” 

Simon fixed his eyes upon his servant, and said in a 
menacing tone : “ Suppose, in order to avenge myself for thy 
base ingratitude, I should make known to the superintendent 
of Lucca who is the man I have in my service ? Suppose I 
were to tell him that the real name of Julio Julii is Pietro 
Mostajo? Who would be bound hand and foot and sent in 
the hold of a ship of war to expiate his crimes upon a scaf- 
fold in Italy?” 

Julio turned pale and trembled. He moved restlessly 
upon his chair, and complained in a low voice of the false 
accusations and injustice of men; but his master eyed all 
his movements in a scornful manner, until at last the ser- 
vant, disconcerted, exclaimed impulsively : 

“ Tell me what to do ; I am ready ! ” 

‘‘Will you accomplish my orders with unwavering will 
and without hesitation ? ” 

“I must do so, since you compel me to it! But fear 
nothing ; my decision is made.” 

“And suppose that Geronimo Heodati were my enemy?” 

“ Geronimo Deodati ! ” exclaimed Julio, in indescribable 
terror. “ Geronimo, your intimate friend ? That noble and 
generous cavalier who loves you as a brother ? He is as 
gentle as a girl ! ” 


THE AMULET. 


59 


“ He is a false friend, a traitor.” 

“Geronimo gave you the wound on your face?* He 
would betray you and seek your ruin ? That is false, false ! 
it is impossible ! ” 

“ He is my mortal enemy. You shall kill him, I say ! ” 
exclaimed Simon Turchi, in a menacing voice. 

“ Must I kill the Signor Geronimo ? Ah ! to what hor- 
rible crime would you urge me ? ” said Julio, in a plaintive 
tone. 

Simon seized his servant by the arm, shook him violently, 
and whispered hoarsely in his ear: “Pietro Mostajo, re- 
member the superintendent of Lucca ! ” 

Julio, as if stupefied, said not a word. 

Simon arose and walked towards the door, saying : “ It is 
well ; I will go and deliver you up to justice.” 

The terrified servant sprang after him, retained him, and 
said, supplicatingly : “I submit myself to your will, and 
accept the fate I cannot escape. I have nevfer before com- 
mitted a murder ; you take his blood upon yourself, do you 
not, signor ? Tell me when I must accomplish this horrible 
crime.” 

“This very day, Julio.” 

“ To-day ? — so soon ? ” 

“ To-morrow would be too late.” 

“Well, command; the sooner the better.” 

“ To-day is the eve of May. Geronimo intends to serenade 
Miss Van de Werve. Only two lute-players will attend 
him. He invited me to accompany him. I will go to bed 
at the factory under pretence of indisposition ; all the ser- 
vants will know that I have not left my dwelling. Do you 
put on the old Spanish cape which has been laid aside for 
five years; no one will then recognize you. You must be 

* “ One night, when passing through the streets, he received from the 
hands of an enemy an ugly wound in the face. He suspected Geronimo 
of having inflicted it ; in which he was mistaken, for the author of the 
attack was afterwards discovered.” ^andello. 


60 


THE AMULET. 


in Hoboken Street, near the Dominican Convent, before 
eleven o’clock. There is at that spot a well which Geronimo 
must pass both in going and returning. Hide behind the 
well until Geronimo approaches, then rush upon him and 
deal him a fatal blow ; strike several times. The lute-players 
are cowards, and they will run away. Take from the dead 
body of Geronimo a pocket-book which you will find in a 
pocket on .the left side of ids doublet ; there is in this pocket- 
book a writing^hich he took from me by a cheat. Leave 
the spot after having accomplished this, and return by the 
darkest streets ; you will not be discovered. Above all, do 
not forget the pocket-book.” 

Julio’s countenance expressed stupefaction and terror. 
During the development of the frightful plot he kept his 
eyes fixed on his master’s lips, and he continued to stare at 
him without moving. 

“Well,” asked his master, “is not the project cunningly 
devised ? ” 

“ It is astonishing, astonishing ! ” stammered the servant, 
lowering his eyes. 

“ You are ready, I suppose, to strike the blow ? But why 
do you hesitate ? Are you afraid ? ” 

“ No, no ; but let me refiect a moment,” said Julio. 

After a few minutes of silence, he looked at his master, 
and said : 

“ With your permission, signor, I will say that the plan, 
as you have arranged it, appears to me to be fraught with 
danger to yourself. Suppose that Geronimo should perceive 
me too soon and defend himself ; that by chance the lute- 
players should be men of courage ; that I should be wounded 
or made prisoner : any of these events might occur. I would 
certainly be broken on the wheel or burned alive. That, 
however, would be of little consequence, if by my death I 
could be useful to you. But I am your servant, and known 
as such by all your acquaintances ; and as I could have no 
motive of hatred or vengeance against a cavalier who has 


THE AMULET. 


Cl 


never spoken an unkind word to me, you would be at once 
suspected of having ordered the murder.” 

“And you, I suppose, would betray me?” said Turchi, 
with bitter irony. 

“Betray you, signor? that would not save myself; but 
under torture my tongue might against my will pronounce 
your name.” 

Simon strode up and down the room, muttering between 
his teeth with suppressed rage. His servant glanced at him 
stealthily, with an almost imperceptible smile of joy and 
triumph. 

At last Simon stood still in the middle of the room ; the 
scar on his cheek was of a fiery red, and his eyes rolled 
around restlessly. 

“Shall I then be forever ruined? Nothing is left me in 
the world but misery and infamy ! Julio, is the arm-chair 
progressing ? ” * 

“ The arm-chair ! Then the arm-chair was destined as a 
snare for Geronimo?” said the servant, stupefied. “What 
do you mean ?” 

“No, no, the chair would come too late!” said Simon 
Turchi, in an agitated voice. “ Talk no more about it ; this 
evening you must lie in wait for Geronimo and kill him. It 
is decided ; it must be done 1 ” 

“ I know a means to accomplish your purpose without 
danger either to you or me, signor,” said the servant. 

“ Ah, if what you say be true 1 Tell me this means of 
safety I ” 

“ There lives in the parish of Saint Andrew a man of 
giant stature and strength ; he is named Bufferio ; he will 
do anything for money ; whether it be to beat, wound, or 
kill a man, it is all the same to him. He fulfils his mission 

“ After Simon Turchi had determined to revenge himself, and after 
long consideration, he ordered a large wooden arm-chair, to which were 
attached two iron bars, so arranged that whoever should sit down in it 
would be caught by the legs below the knees, and would be unable to 
move.” — Van Meteren, History of the Low Countries. 

G 


62 


THE AMULET. 


to the satisfaction of his employers, and he never betrays a 
secret. He has five or six intrepid companions engaged in 
the same trade as himself; they may be relied upon. Give 
me money to pay this ruffian, and you need have no anxiety ; 
Bufierio will think that I am acting from personal ven- 
geance ; besides, he does not know me. Thus neither of us 
will be suspected nor accused should the affair prove unsuc- 
cessful.” 

Simon seemed surprised by Julio’s words, and he remained 
a few moments in deep thought. By degrees a smile parted 
his lips ; it was evident that the proposed plan met his ap- 
proval. He opened his purse and put four gold pieces in 
Julio’s hand. 

“Is that sufficient?” he asked. 

“You jest, signor,” replied the servant. “Four gold 
pieces for the life of a nobleman ! ” 

Simon handed him four more. 

“ Will that do ?” he said. 

“ It is not enough yet.” 

“How much will be required?” 

“ I do not know. Perhaps twenty crowns.” 

“ Twenty ? I have only fifteen about me, with some small 
change.” 

“ Give me all, signor. If I had not enough I should be 
obliged to return without concluding the affair.” 

Simon heaved a deep sigh and emptied the contents of his 
purse into Julio’s hand. 

“ You will bring me back what is left, will you not?” 

“ Certainly ; but I do not think much will remain.” 

“ Come, Julio, I am in a hurry to return to the factory. 
Fulfil your mission skilfully, and I will recompense you 
largely. But a thought strikes me. The pocket-book must 
not fall into the hands of Bufferio.” 

“ I had forgotten that,” said Julio, embarrassed. 

“ Ah ! I have it ! ” said Simon Turchi, after a moment’s 
reflection. “ A little before ten o’clock you must go to the 


THE AMULET. 


63 


house of Geronimo and tell him I am ill with fever, and that 
I have sent you in my place to accompany him armed. 
Follow him closely, and when he falls, take the pocket-book 
from him. Tell Bufferio that it is an unimportant docu- 
ment.” 

Julio made a movement of displeasure on receiving 
this new order. He had rejoiced in the idea of not being 
obliged to witness this wicked attack, and now he was com- 
manded to take part in it. For fear of being subjected to 
something worse, he did not venture to make any remark. 

“ Go now,” said Simon Turchi, “ and get the old Spanish 
cape. It may serve to disguise you from Bufferio. Gird 
on a sword also, that Geronimo may think you are armed for 
the purpose of defending him in case of attack.” 

The servant took the lamp from the table and prepared to 
obey the order. 

“ What are you doing ? ” said his master. “ Are you going 
•to leave me in the dark ? Are you afraid to go without a 
light ? ” 

“ I might knock my head against the beams, for I have 
forgotten where the cape was put.” 

“ You had it in your hands only three days ago. You 
are afraid in the dark, Julio. Take the lamp.” 

The servant soon returned. He had the Spanish cape 
around his shoulders. It was a wide cloak, in which the 
whole body might be wrapped ; and when the hood was 
drawn down it entirely concealed the face. 

The master and servant descended the staircase in silence 
and approached the little garden-gate. There Julio put the 
lamp upon the ground and extinguished it. 

The lock grated as the key turned ; the door was opened 
and closed, and Simon Turchi and his servant disappeared 
in the dark and solitary street. 


64 


THE AMULET. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION — THE ASSASSINATOR 
SLAIN. 

A BLACK shadow gliding like an almost impalpable 
spot, might be seen moving along the street of Saint 

John. 

Thick clouds covered the sky. Not a star was visible. 
Here and there — at the corners of the streets and alleys — 
flickered a small lamp, lighted before an image of the Vir- 
gin ; but these slight flames, far from diminishing the ob- 
scurity, shone in the foggy atmosphere as glowworms in the 
woods, which glitter but do not give light. 

Silence reigned in the deserted streets. If the inhabi- 
tants, behind their oaken windows, heard occasionally some 
sound interrupting the stillness of the night, it was the hur- . 
ried step of some benighted artisan who made as much 
noise as possible with his feet in order to frighten away the 
robbers ; or it was the slow tread of a highwayman, who, 
listening attentively and peering through the darkness, was 
on the watch for his prey ; or it might be the watchmen, 
who cried the hour and made the pavement resound under 
the stroke of their halberds as if to give evil-doers a warning 
of their approach. 

The shadow gliding at this moment along the street of 
St. John was that of a man completely enveloped in a large 
cloak, his head so covered by the hood that his eyes alone 
were visible. As in passing before an image of the Virgin 
a feeble ray from a lamp fell upon him, one might have 
seen as he hurried along that his hand rested on the hilt of 
his sword. 

Was this person an evil-doer, bent upon the commission 
of some crime, or, fearing danger, was he securing to him- 
self the means of defence ? 


THE AMULET. 


65 


However that may be, he pursued his way undisturbed 
and reached a narrow winding alley, from beneath the 
ground of which seemed to proceed the confused noise of 
many voices. 

The man stopped at the entrance of a cellar, to which ad- 
mission was gained by a ladder, and listened to the joyous 
sounds which issued from within. 

He put his hand in his pocket and chinked some pieces of 
money. 

“ The sign of the Silver Dice 1 ” said he, sighing. “ How 
merry they are ! The dice are rolling upon the table. Shall 
I not risk a shilling ? Only one ?’’ 

Yielding to the irresistible temptation, he placed his foot 
upon the ladder; but a sudden thought seemed to arrest 
him. He sprang back, trembling, and hastened from the 
cellar. A little farther in the street he stopped and mur- 
mured in an anxious voice : 

“ Heavens ! what was I about to do ? Risk the money 
upon dice ? I would certainly have lost the whole. Pietro 
Mostajo, do not forget the Superintendent of Lucca ! I am 
saved. Infernal temptation ! I was about to stake my head. 
But, perhaps, I would not be unlucky. I might win a for- 
tune. The temptation returns. No, no, I must go seek 
Bufferio, and I have no time to lose. He lives yonder : a 
low dark door beside the pump.” 

As he said these last words, he proceeded down the alley, 
but soon stopped near the pump, and said in an undertone : 

“ Bufferio lives here. How dark it is ! I can hardly see 
the door ; but I am not mistaken. Here the terrible ruffian 
has his lair. Strange, how I tremble! Perhaps it is a 
warning of some misfortune about to happen to me I Sup- 
pose they should take my money and murder me to conceal 
the theft. What shall I do ? Shall I tell my master that 
I could not find Bufferio? Alas! the Superintendent of 
Lucca ! ” 

6 * 


E 


66 


THE AMULET. 


After a moment of anxious thought he walked towards 
the low door, saying, with a sigh : 

“ Come, come ; I can do nothing else. Of two evils choose 
the least ! ” 

Although his words indicated an energetic resolution, his 
hand trembled as he raised the knocker of the little door 
and twice let it fall. 

It gave out a deep hollow sound, as though it were the 
door of a vault for the dead. 

A long time passed, and no noise within gave evidence 
that his call was heeded. 

The visitor became still more terrified in the supposition 
that no one was in the house, and that consequently he would 
be obliged to return, without concluding the affair, to his 
master, who would not believe him. 

In the little dark door was a small opening, protected by 
a grating. Behind the iron bars two eyes were fixed on the 
person who had knocked, and if he had been left apparently 
unnoticed, it was probably'iiecause two inquisitive eyes en- 
deavored to pierce the darkness in order to recognize the un- 
timely visitor. 

A harsh voice at last asked from behind the grating : 

“Who knocked?” 

The man in the cloak started back. The unexpected 
question so close to his ear made him tremble violently. 
However, he soon controlled himself and replied in Italian : 

“ Woman, I do not understand the Flemish tongue. You 
must know Italian, as Bufferio is a Roman. Tell me if 
Bufferio is at home.” 

“ Who are you ? ” she replied, in Italian jargon. 

“ Who *am I ? I come to arrange a secret affair with 
Bufferio, and I do not choose to tell my name.” 

“ You are an agent of the bailiflf, and you wish to deceive 
me. Go on your way and leave me in peace. Bufferio is 
not at home.” 

The man took some pieces of silver from his pocket and 
rattled them together. 


THE AMULET. 


67 


“ You are mistaken, woman. I have need of the services 
of Bufferio for an important affair. He may gain a few 
crowns of gold. I come with the cash in hand : you under- 
stand.” 

Two bolts grated in their rusty staples, and the door opened. 

“ Enter, signor,” said the woman, “ and follow me.” 

“I do not see you; it is as black as Erebus; where is 
the staircase ? ” cried out the other. 

“ Follow me, signor. Give me your hand ; I will precede 
you.” 

She seized the hand of the visitor, and whilst guiding him 
to the staircase, she said : 

“Your hand trembles, signor. Are you afraid?” 

“ I afraid ! ” said the other, in a faltering voice. “ Afraid 
of what ? The darkness makes me totter.” 

“It may be, signor; but I thought your hand was cold 
and trembling. Here is the staircase ; now follow me.” 

The man ascended the staircase behind her, stumbling up 
the well-worn steps, striking his head and elbows against 
invisible objects, and grumbling and swearing as if to show 
that he was not agitated by fear. 

Having reached the first story, the woman opened a door 
and introduced her companion into a room lighted by the 
smoking flame of an iron lamp. She showed him a miser- 
able chair, and said : 

“ Sit down, signor, if you please, and wait a while. I will 
go call Bufferio, he is engaged at play in the neighborhood. 
Should any one knock at the door during my absence, pay 
no attention to it ; I will lock the door on the outside and 
take the key with me.” 

The man looked at her surprised and troubled. Her bony 
limbs, the gray locks which fell upon her cheeks, her large 
mouth and long teeth, made her appear to his eyes a hideous 
being, a worthy companion for Bufferio. 

He listened to the sound of her receding steps, until he 
heard the key grate in the lock of the door. 


68 


THE AMULET. 


Then he looked around him and examined with mistrust 
and surprise the apartment of Bufferio and the objects it 
contained. 

The room was neither well furnished nor clean : a table, 
three rickety chairs, an oaken bench, a few earthenware 
vessels near the fireplace, and a bed, constituted all the 
furniture. It was not, however, these common objects which 
fixed the gaze of the visitor. What he could not see without 
shuddering, was the number of strange arms suspended all 
around the walls of the room. In the midst of rusty swords, 
sharp daggers and knives of every size and shape, he saw 
short clubs with iron heads, steel chains like the bit of a 
horse, ropes with running knots, and various other articles 
whose use was inexplicable to him, although he was con- 
vinced that these singular instruments were intended for no 
good purpose. 

On the table, beside the lamp, was a large knife, and near 
it a piece of linen and some sand for scouring, showing that 
the woman had been occupied in cleaning these arms when 
the knock at the door interrupted her. 

All these instruments of murder filled with terror the 
heart of the man who was contemplating them. He turned 
his eyes away from them, trembling as he refiected upon the 
horror of his position. However, a few moments only were 
left him, for the door of the house soon opened and he 
heard steps on the staircase. 

The woman entered and said : 

^ “ Bufierio will soon be here. When he has the dice in 
his hand, it is difficult to tear him away. Nevertheless, he 
will come. I think, signor, that he has drank deeply. 
Look well to yourself, and if you value your life, do not irri- 
tate him, for he would make as little scruple of maltreating 
you as he would of crushing a worm. Apart from that, he 
is the best man in the world.” 

^ She seated herself at the table, took up the knife and 
linen, and continued her occupation, whilst observing the 
stranger with a suspicious eye. 


THE AMULET. 


69 


He had pulled the hood of the cloak over his face and 
seated himself in silence, fixing his eye vaguely upon space, 
like a man wearied by long waiting. He was deeply 
agitated, and from time to time his whole frame shook. 
Every time that he glanced towards the table he met the 
penetrating look of the frightful Megsera, who, while con- 
tinuing to clean the blade of the large knife, considered him 
from head to foot, and seemed endeavoring to discover who 
he was and with what intention he had come. 

At last, no longer able to resist his feeling of anxiety, he 
rose and said : 

“ Woman, show me the way out. I have not time to wait 
longer. I will return to-morrow, during the day.” 

“I hear Bufferio whistling in the street,” she replied. 
“ He is even now placing the key in the door.” 

The stranger, as if perfectly satisfied with this intelligence, 
fell back in his chair, with a suppressed sigh, and listened in 
an agony of fear to the heavy footsteps on the staircase. 

Bufierio appeared at the door, and looked distrustfully at 
the man who had interrupted him at his game. 

The rufiian Bufiferio was of giant build. He was obliged 
to stoop in order to enter the door. His head was thrown 
back defiantly, and his hand rested upon the hilt of a dag- 
ger which was held by his girdle. A broad-brimmed hat 
shaded his face ; his whole dress was of dark-brown cloth, 
scarcely distinguishable in the darkness of night. Under 
his prominent eyebrows twinkled very small eyes, and a 
cruel, withering smile played about his mouth. 

He made an imperious gesture to the woman and pointed 
to the door. She left the room grumbling, but gave no other 
evidence of dissatisfaction. ^ 

The ruffian shut the door, took a chair, and said to the 
stranger, in a rough and coarse voice : 

“ Perche me disturba f Why do you disturb me ? Who 
are you ? ” 

This quekion was very embarrassing to the stranger. 
He replied, stammering : 


70 


THE AMULET. 


“ Is it necessary, Signor BufFerio, that you should know 
my name before doing me a service for which I will pay you 
liberally ? ” 

On hearing these words, the ruffian struck his forehead 
with his hand, as if he thought he recognized the voice of 
the visitor ; but he did not stop to reflect longer. 

“ Come tell me quickly what you want ; they are waiting 
for me at the tavern of the Silv&r Dice, and I have no time 
to lose.” 

“ It is an afiair of importance, Signor Bufierio.” 

“ Yes ; my wife told me I might gain a few crowns of 
gold. Speak. Why do you beat about the bush in this 
manner ? What embarrasses you ? Do you think you are 
dealing with a dishonest man ? Fear nothing. Not a hair 
of your head shall be touched in my house.” 

This assurance restored the stranger’s confidence, and he 
said, in a more steady voice : 

“ Signor Bufferio, you must know that I have an enemy 
who insults and outrages me, and who threatens to drive me 
to ruin.” 

“ I understand. You wish to be avenged by my instru- 
mentality.” 

“ Yes, signor. How many golden crowns do you ask for 
such a service ? ” 

“ That depends upon the rank of the individual, and upon 
the kind of service you desire. A few blows with a stick, a 
scratch on the face, do not cost as much as a mortal wound.” 

“ The wound must be mortal, signor.” 

“ And who is your enemy ? A nobleman or a common 
citizen ? Rich or poor ? ” 

“ He is a nobleman, signor, and the possessor of an ample 
fortune.” 

“ A nobleman ? And who are you, who make yourself 
responsible for payment ? ” 

“ I am a poor servant out of service.” 

The ruffian smiled incredulously. 


THE AMULET. 


71 


“ Ah ! said he, ironically, “ a poor servant out of service ! 
Come, throw back your hood. You have red hair; you 
often play at dice ; your name is Julio ; you live near the 
bridge De la Vigne with the Signor Simon Turchi. Is not 
that true? You were trying to deceive me.” 

Julio, thus unexpectedly recognized, was mute from aston- 
ishment, and, trembling from head to foot, stared at the 
ruffian, who did not appear in the least displeased, but said, 
in an encouraging tone : 

“ Be calm ; you need not be disturbed because I know 
who you are. My trade is to keep the most important affairs 
secret. Fear nothing, I will not betray you.” 

It was some minutes before Julio had recovered himself 
sufficiently to speak. 

“ I am sorry that you know my name,” said he ; “ but no 
matter. I desire to know. Signor Bufferio, what price you 
demand for ridding me forever of my enemy?” 

“Your enemy?” said the ruffian, laughing. “A gentle- 
man your enemy ? You are still endeavoring to deceive me. 
You mean your master’s enemy?” 

“No, my personal enemy, who has calumniated me to my 
master, and who has striven to have me ignominiously dis- 
charged.” 

“ And you offer me golden crowns ? How long is it since 
servants became possessed of such treasures ? You request 
to have a mortal wound inflicted upon a gentleman? Well, 
you must give me fifteen gold crowns.” 

“Fifteen crowns!” exclaimed Julio, with assumed aston- 
ishment. “ So large a sum ! I do not own that much.” 

“ Then pay me twelve ; but it must be in advance, before 
I strike the blow.” 

“ I will pay you immediately, before leaving.” 

“ Give me your hand, Julio ; it is a bargain. Now tell me 
exactly what you or your master requires of me.” 

“ Nut my master : I alone.” 

“ It is all the same. What am I to do, and when is it to 
be done?” 


72 


THE AMULET. 


“This very night, Bufferio.” 

“To-night? This will oblige me to renounce my game 
with the Portuguese sailor ; and yet I might have won some 
gold pieces there.” 

“ Listen, Signor Bufferio. To-night, at eleven o’clock, a 
young nobleman, accompanied by two lute-players, will come 
from the direction of the convent of the Dominicans ; he will 
turn the corner at Prince Street, and will proceed towards 
the church of St. James. He will thus be obliged to pass 
before the stone well at the head of Hoboken Street. You 
will conceal yourself behind the well with two or three 
faithful companions, and as the young gentleman passes, you 
will attack and kill him.” 

“ The affair has been well planned,” remarked the ruffian, 
“ I could manage it by myself ; but since you desire it, I 
will take with me a couple of my brave companions. How 
will I recognize the one I am to strike ? ” 

“ His dress is entirely brown, and his -Cap is ornamented 
with a white plume ; in the darkness you will be able to per- 
ceive only the white plume : that will be a certain sign.” 

Bufferio shook his head doubtfully. 

“ Have you nothing else to observe ? ” he asked. 

“I will merely inform you that I will accompany the 
yaung gentleman, and when he falls, I will take from his 
person a writing, which, if it were discovered, might involve 
me in great danger. You will recognize me by this Spanish 
cape, and I will cry out very loud, that you and your men 
may know that I am not an enemy.” 

“ Now where are the gold crowns?” 

“Do you accept the commission, Bufferio?” 

“ I will fulfil it as though I were laboring for myself.” 

Julio took from his pocket some gold crowns, then con- 
tinued to draw them out one by one, until he held twelve in 
his hand. He endeavored to conceal from the ruflian that 
he possessed more than the sum agreed upon ; but Bufferio 
must have suspected his intention, for he smiled, and said in 
a decided manner : 


THE AMULET. 


73 


“You have more gold crowns. I knew it from the first; 
people do not generally enter into such affairs with only the 
sum absolutely required. You need not deceive me. Give 
me the stipulated amount; I ask no more.” 

As soon as the other had handed him the money, Bufferio 
approached the lamp, examined and weighed each piece of 
gold, and then said : 

“ It is good coin. Have no anxiety, Julio, I will go for 
my comrades. There is but little time left — only a good 
half hour.” 

Julio took leave of the ruffian, and was about to quit the 
room, but he stopped and said: “Signor Bufferio, you will 
not tell your companions who requested this service of you ? ” 

“I tell nothing to my companions. The proverb says. If 
you wish to lose your liberty, trust your secrets to others.” 

“You perfectly understand what you have to do?” 

“Yes, yes. At eleven o’clock, behind the well in Hoboken 
Street, a young gentleman with a white plume in his hat. 
Be quiet, I myself will deal the blow, and I will not miss 
the mark.” 

“Adieu, Bufferio.” 

“Adieu, Julio.” 

The rufiian accompanied the servant to the lower story, 
opened the door of the street, and closed it behind him. 

When Julio found himself in the open air, he walked a 
short distance, then stopped, drew a long breath as if a 
heavy weight had fallen from his shoulders, and said, joy- 
ously : 

“Heavens! what an escape! I doubt if I am really alive. 
The difficult affair is at last concluded. The signor says 
that I am a coward. I would like to see him in that room 
with that infernal woman and the terrible Bufferio. Now 
I must go to Geronimo. My greatest difficulty is yet to come. 
If I get through it successfully, I may well say that I was 
born under a lucky star. But I cannot tarry, I have still a 
long distance to walk,” 


74 


THE AMULET. 


He quickened his pace and soon reached the street on 
which the Dominican Convent stood; he passed the Abbey 
of Saint Michael and the Mint, and entered the grand square 
without being molested. 

On the way he kept his hand in his pocket, that he might 
enjoy the pleasure of passing the gold coin through his 
fingers. He muttered to himself that he had gained three 
gold crowms which his master would never see again, were 
he to live a hundred years. Once free from his present care 
and anxiety, he would take his seat at a gaming-table, where 
he would remain all day, and perhaps he could win heaps 
of gold. 

Absorbed in these thoughts, he reached Geronimo’s resi- 
dence and knocked at the door. It was soon opened, and 
he was conducted into a room on the ground floor, where 
the young gentleman, in his cap and cloak, seemed to be 
waiting the arrival of friends. 

“Peace be to this house!” said Julio, bowing. “Signor, 
I bring you a message which I would deliver with more 
pleasure w^ere it less sad. My poor master is ill with fever, 
and is unable to leave his bed. He begs you to excuse him 
from accompanying you to-night to the serenade.” 

Geronimo’s countenance assumed an expression of deep 
compassion. The young man concluded that his own hap- 
piness, his approaching marriage with Miss Van de Werve, 
had touched the heart of his poor friend, and that his pres- 
ent state of health was the consequence of these painful 
emotions. 

“ Did the fever attack him suddenly, Julio ? ” he asked. 
“ Is he very ill?” 

“No, signor. It may not have any bad cohsequenees ; 
but he could not venture to expose himself to the cold and 
damp night-air.” 

Geronimo seemed in deep thought. 

“ Signor, my master did not send me solely to inform you 
of his indisposition ; he directed me to accompany you to 


THE AMULET. 


75 


the serenade, and to protect you in case of danger. He 
knows how courageous I am, and that were five or six to 
attack you, I would not flee before them.” 

accept your services, Julio. You always seemed to 
me to be a devoted servant. The lute-players have not yet 
arrived. Go to the kitchen and tell the cook to give you a 
pint of beer.” 

Julio went to the kitchen, but found the cook asleep. He 
awoke him, gave him his master’s order, and received the 
pint of beer. 

He expected, while drinking, to talk with the servant, 
and he had commenced speaking of quarrels, combats, 
knives, and the heroic deeds in which he had been the actor, 
but the servant had scarcely seated himself before he fell 
again into a deep sleep. Julio emptied his glass in silence, 
until a knock at the door and the sound of stringed instru- 
ments announced the arrival of the lute-players. 

Geronimo called him, and on entering the ante-chamber 
he found Geronimo ready to go out with the lute-players. 

Julio was troubled on remarking that these latter were 
armed. If these people were brave men, Bufferio and his 
comrades would have to deal with an equal number of ad- 
versaries. Who could foresee the termination of the strug- 
gle? However, he felt reassured on reflecting that Geronimo 
and the lute-players, being attacked unexpectedly, would 
not have time to defend themselves. 

They left the house together, passed the Dominican Con- 
vent,* and soon reached Prince Street, at the upper end of 
which was the stone well behind which Bufierio was con- 
cealed, if he had been faithful to his promise. 

Up to that time Julio had walked in advance of the 
others, in order to appear bold and intrepid ; he now com- 
menced to fall back, and placed himself in the rear. His 
heart failed him ; for, however well the plans had been laid, 
the blow might miss its aim, or might not cause death. 

They were within about one hundred feet of the well. 


76 


THE AMULET. 


The young gentleman, wholly ignorant of the danger 
which threatened him, was thinking of his unhappy friend, 
Simon Turchi, overpowered by a heart-sorrow, tossing on a 
bed of suffering, while he was on his way to serenade his 
beloved Mary. He also, in his own mind, deplored the in- 
volved condition of Simon’s business affairs, and determined 
to save him, even at the cost of great personal sacrifices, as 
soon as his marriage would render him independent. 

What would the young cavalier have thought had he 
known that at a few steps, distance from him, three assassins, 
hired by Simon Turchi, were lying in wait to kill him. But 
no, his mind was filled with compassion and affectionate 
feelings for his cruel enemy. 

The little band was not far from Hoboken Street; Julio 
gazed fixedly into the darkness to discover if any one was 
near the well. 

Suddenly he perceived a dark shadow advancing. Trem- 
bling in an agony of fear, and in order to make himself 
known to the ruffians, Julio suddenly drew his sword and 
exclaimed : 

“ Al assasdno ! Ajusto ! ajusto ! Murder! help! help!” 

But he had spoken too soon for the success of his designs; 
for, being put upon his guard by this exclamation, Geronimo 
drew his sword, and placed his back against the wall of the 
house that he might not be assailed from behind. 

The lute-players, screaming from fright, ran away, and 
Julio stood in the middle of the street brandishing his 
sword. 

All this had passed almost instantaneously after the first 
alarm given by Julio. The man whom he had seen coming 
from the well, followed by two companions, rushed to the 
side of the street where Geronimo had made a stand to de- 
fend himself. The assassin, who was in advance of the two 
others, fell upon Geronimo and gave him a sword-thrust 
which he supposed pierced his body; but a skilful move- 
ment parried the blow, and the aggressor himself fell with 


THE AMULET. 77 

such force upon Geronimo’s sword that the blade passed 
through his body. 

The assassin fell heavily, and in a plaintive voice, as 
though bidding adieu to life, exclaimed : 

“ 0 mojo I I die ! Bufferio is dead ! ” 

Disregarding the villain who had fallen, the gentleman 
rushed upon the other two and wounded one in the shoulder. 
Convinced that they had to deal with a powerful and skilful 
adversary, they turned and fled, Geronimo pursuing them far 
beyond the well. 

Julio followed him, crying, vociferating, and striking with 
his sword in the dark, as though he were contending with 
numerous enemies. When Geronimo returned with the ser- 
vant to the spot where he had left the dead body of the ruf- 
fian, he found- three or four watchmen calling for help. 
Many heads were thrust from the windows, and one citizen 
even ventured out of his house with a lamp in his hand. 

The watchmen, having inquired as to what had taken 
place, examined the body to see if there were any signs of 
life. 

“ Leave him ! ” said one ; “ it is Bufferio. God be praised ! 
the man has at last met the fate which he deserved.” 

In the meantime, Julio had commenced to boast. He re- 
lated that he had to deal with two assassins at once, that he 
had wounded one in the face, and pierced the other with his 
sword. How the latter had been able to run away, was un- 
accountable; no doubt he would be found near at hand, dead 
or dying. 

The young gentleman, who really believed the story of 
Turchi’s servant, thanked him for his assistance, and ac- 
knowledged that he owed his life to him, as he had giveu 
the warning of the approach of the assassins. 

The dead body was removed behind the well until the city 
authorities should order its burial. 

The head watchman approached Geronimo, and said to 
him : 


7 * 


78 


THE AMULET. 


“Where do you live, signor? Two of my men will ac- 
company you, lest some other accident might befall you. Do 
not refuse the offer. The villains who escaped might be on 
the watch for you, in order to avenge the death of their 
companions.” 

“What shall I do?” said the gentleman to Julio. “I 
cannot give the serenade without the lute-players, and, be- 
sides, I could not sing after such emotion. But Miss Van 
de Werve is expecting it, and if I do not go, she will im- 
agine that some accident has happened to me. It would be. 
better for me to see Mr. Van de Werve, so as to remove any 
cause of anxiety. I accept your offer, watchmen, and I will 
liberally recompense the services you render me. I must 
return to Kipdorp, and you will do me the favor to wait a 
few minutes, in order to accompany me tO my dwelling. 
Follow me.” 

Geronimo, the watchmen, and Julio soon reached the resi- 
dence of Mr. Van de Werve. He knocked, and was imme- 
diately admitted. 

The young gentleman again thanked Julio with the live- 
liest gratitude for his assistance, and promised to tell his 
master how courageously he had acted, and the eminent 
services he had rendered him. 

Julio bade adieu, and hastened to his master’s dwelling. 
He was about to knock, but, to his great terror, the door was 
opened at once, as though some one were waiting for him. 

“ Is it you, Julio?” asked a man, in the darkness. 

The servant recognized his master’s voice, and entered 
the door. 

“ Well,” said he, in a stifled tone, “ is he dead?” 

“Who?” 

“Who! Geronimo?” 

“ On the contrary, Bufferio is dead. Geronimo ran him 
through the body.” 

“ Then you have not the pocket-book ? ” 

“ Certainly not.” 


THE AMULET. 


79 


“ And the gold crowns ? ” 

“ I gave them to Bufferio.” 

“ Pietro Mostajo, you have betrayed me ! ” hissed the in- 
furiated signor in the ear of his servant, shaking him con- 
vulsively by the arm. “Tell me quickly what has hap- 
pened ! Tremble, stupid coward ! the Superintendent of 
Lucca shall know who you are ! ” 

Ehhene che da!” answered Julio. “Then the Signor 
Geronimo shall also know who hired Bufferio to assassinate 
him.” 

A hoarse cry like a stifled groan resounded through the 
vestibule. The door was closed. 


CHAPTER V. 

VAN DE WERVE’s RECEPTION — SIMON TURCHpS JEAL- 
OUSY AND HATRED. 

M r. van DE WERVE, whose large fortune justified a 
lavish expenditure, was accustomed to receive at his 
residence every month the principal gentlemen of Antwerp, 
strangers as well as citizens. His love for art and science 
induced him to bring together the best artists and the most 
noted literary men of the day with the high-born, wealthy, 
and influential members of society at Antwerp; and his 
house had become the rendezvous of all that was excellent 
and celebrated in the city. 

Nearly the whole of the anterior part of the house was 
occupied by a vast hall, called the Ancestral Hall, because 
it was decorated by numberless souvenirs of his illustrious 
family. The walls, for a certain distance were sculptured 
in oak wood, so artistically designed, and so delicately 
wrought, that at the first glance it looked like embroidery 
in various colors. To produce this efiect, the natural brown 


80 


THE AMULET. 


of the oak had been left in some places. All the rest shone 
with gold and silver, which was relieved by a beautiful scar- 
let, brilliant yellow, and the softest sky-blue. The many 
small figures scattered over the ornaments were highly 
gilded. From the wooden wainscot arose slight pillars, 
which, uniting in the Gothic style, supported the heavy 
beams of the ceiling. Six of these beams were visible : all 
were covered with highly colored sculptures. Their deco- 
rations harmonized with those of the wainscot, and seemed 
an expansion of it, as though the architect wished the ex- 
quisite ornaments of the beams of the ceiling to be consid- 
ered a luxuriant verdure, springing from trunks rooted in 
the oaken wainscot. 

The escutcheon of the Van de Werve family, together 
with the families allied to them, was artistically sculptured 
in the wood. The emblems and devices were in profusion : 
lions, ^vild boars, eagles, ermines, bands and crosses of gold, 
silver, green, and blue quartz, so numerous and sparkling, 
that when the noonday sun penetrated into the hall, the eye 
could with difiiculty bear the dazzling magnificence. 

The armorial bearings of the Van de Werves, Lords of 
Schilde, painted in larger proportions than the others, were 
at the extremity of the hall. They consisted of a black 
boar on a field of gold, quartered by three chevrons of sil- 
ver on black, surmounted by a helmet ornamented by 
mantlings of black and gold, and above this was a boar’s 
head. 

Around these family arms shone a large number of es- 
cutcheons of smaller size ; among others, the coat of arms 
of the Wyneghem, the Van Immerseel, the Van Wilre, the 
Van Mildert, the Van Coolput, the Van Bruloch, and the 
Van Zymaer, families the most nearly related to that of 
Van de Werve. 

Above the wainscot, within the niches formed by the pil- 
lars, hung the portraits of some of the most illustrious an- 
cestors of William Van de Werve, as well as his own, in 


THE AMULET. 


81 


which he was represented as captain of a German company- 
in the service of Charles V. 

The portraits did not occupy all the panels formed in the 
richly carved oak. In a large number appeared valuable 
paintings from the pencil of the most celebrated masters of 
Netherlands. The eye rested on the creations of the immor- 
tal brothers Van Eyck, the touching Quintiu Massys, the 
intellectual Roger Van der Weydens, the spiritual Jerome 
Bosch, the laborious Lucas de Leyde, and others whose 
names were favorably mentioned in the world of art. 

In a corner of the room, beside the fireplace, stood a 
piano richly enamelled in woods of different colors, and upon 
it lay two lutes and a violin — a proof that the charming 
art of music was cultivated by the family of Mr. Van de 
Werve. 

From the ceiling were suspended six gilded chandeliers ; 
on the mantelpiece were two candelabras ; along the walls, 
where the pillars formed projections, numerous sconces were 
fastened; and when Mr. Van de Werve received his friends 
in the evening, the reflection of the numberless wax candles 
from the many gold and silver ornaments gave a princely 
air to the hall. 

Three days after the attempted assassination of Geronimo 
by the ruffian Bufferio, Mr. Van de Werve was to entertain 
his friends in the evening, it being the time appointed for 
their reunion. Although he had been deeply moved by the 
murderous assault, and his daughter Mary had scarcely re- 
covered from the shock, he had not withdrawn the invita- 
tions, hoping that the social gathering might help to dissi- 
pate painful thoughts. 

At the appointed hour the dwelling of Mr. Van de Werve 
was in a blaze of light. The large double door was thrown 
open, and in the vast hall w’ere crowds of domestics, the 
attendants of the guests who had already arrived. 

The large parlor was filled with persons of different con- 
ditions and ages. There were, however, only men present, 

F 


82 


THE AMULET. 


for this evening was by a previous arrangement to be devoted 
to artists, men of letters, and notable men of commerce. 

The first salutations had been exchanged among the guests 
of Mr. Van de Werve; they had separated according to 
their pleasure in different groups, and were engaged in 
cordial and familiar conversation. 

Five or six of the more aged were seated near a table ex- 
amining some new works which excited their admiration ; 
others, whose more simple attire proclaimed them to be 
artists, were showing each other their designs; another 
party, evidently formed of young noblemen, surrounded 
Geronimo, and were asking particulars of the recent at- 
tempt upon his life. 

At the end of the room, not far from the fireplace, were 
collected the foreigners who were engaged in commerce at 
Antwerp. Although they had assembled for amusement, 
they were conversing, through habit, upon the expected ar- 
rival of vessels, and the price of gold and different kinds of 
merchandise. Among these foreigners was to be seen every 
description of costume, and every variety of tongue could 
be heard. The Spaniard found himself beside a native of > 
Lucca, the Portuguese near the Florentine, the English with 
the Genoese, the German next to the Venetian ; and, as on 
Change at Antwerp, they found means to understand each 
other. 

Mr. Van de Werve had at first remained near the door in 
order to welcome his guests as they entered ; but supposing 
that the greater part of those invited had arrived, he left 
this place and was walking from group to group, joining in 
conversation for a few moments, and saying some pleasant 
words to each. 

The old Deodati had seated himself in an arm-chair apart. 
So many had welcomed him on his arrival at Antwerp, and 
he had been the object of so much polite attention, that, 
being fatigued from standing and talking, he was now seek- 
ing some repose. 


THE AMULET. 


83 


By his side was Simon Turchi, conversing familiarly and 
in a low tone with the old man. The hypocrite feigned an 
extraordinary affection for the venerable nobleman, and 
flattered him by every expression of respect and esteem. 
They had already spoken of the attempted assassination, 
and Simon Turchi had expressed his astonishment, for he 
did not believe that Geronimo had an enemy in the world. 
It was quite likely that Bufferio had made a mistake as to 
the individual, a thing which might easily have happened 
in so dark a night. 

While Simon Turchi, with apparent calmness, thus con- 
versed with the old gentleman, he was evidently meditating 
some wicked design ; for while talking, his eyes incessantly 
wandered to Geronimo, and he endeavored to divine from his 
countenance the subject of his conversation. He did not 
for one instant lose sight of Mary’s betrothed. 

After speaking of the assassination, the old Deodati 
glanced around the room upon the difierent groups of guests, 
and he asked Turchi : 

“ Who is the gentleman in purple velvet, who is the object 
of such marked respect from the merchants around him ? 
I do not mean the tall old man, I am acquainted with him, 
he is the rich Fugger of Augsburg ; I am speaking of the 
one who stands beside him.” 

“ He is a banker, signor,” replied Simon Turchi. “ He is 
very rich, and his name is Lazarus Tucher. The gentleman 
before him is the head of the house of the Hochstetter. . 
The gentlemen conversing with him belong to the distin- 
guished commercial houses of the Gigli, the Spignoli, and the 
Gualterotti. A little apart, and behind them, is Don Pezoa, 
the superintendent of the king of Portugal ; he is speaking 
with Di4go d’Aro, and Antonio de Vaglio, superintendents 
from Spain. The gentlemen near them are Italian and 
Portuguese merchants, whose names I could tell you, for I 
know them all, but such details would not interest you.” 

“ I am indebted to you for your kindness. Signor Turchi,” 


84 


THE AMULET, 


replied Deodati. “ My nephew, Gerouimo, would give me 
all this information, but he is surrounded by his young 
friends, and as he sees me with you, he is undoubtedly con- 
vinced that I could not be in better or more agreeable com- 
pany. Have the kindness to tell me the name of the fine- 
looking old man seated near the table, and to give me some 
information regarding those who are listening to him with 
so much attention.” 

“ Around the table, signor, are the most learned men of 
Netherlands. That gray-headed orator is the old Graphseus, 
secretary of the city of Antwerp, and the author of several 
well written Latin works. The young man, on whose 
shoulder he leans, is his son, Alexander, who is also very 
learned. Before him is seated Abraham Ortelius, the great 
geographer, who is regarded as the Ptolemy of his age. 
Beside Ortelius is his friend and fellow’-laborer Gerard, also 
a learned geographer, and one of the luminaries of the day. 
The only one whose dress indicates his Italian birth is Louis 
Guicciardini, a Florentine gentleman, who is here for the 
purpose of collecting materials for an extensive work on the 
Low Countries, and particularly on the powerful commercial 
city of Antwerp. The gentleman plainly dressed, with a 
black beard, holding a book in his hand, is Christopher 
Plantin ; he is engaged in establishing at Antwerp a printing- 
press of great importance. Its dimensions are so large that 
it will occupy the ground on which several spacious houses 
now stand; hundreds of w^orkmen will be employed all day 
in composing, correcting, and printing books in every 
civilized tongue. You must not fail, signor, to visit the 
building ; even in its unfinished state it will cause you as- 
tonishment.” 

“The Netherlands is a favored country,” said the old 
Deodati. “If the climate is not as mild as in our own 
beautiful Italy, the men are bold, active, intelligent, indus- 
trious, and learned, and they possess all the qualifications 
requisite for the material prosperity and moral progress of a 


1 


THE AMULET. 


86 


nation. I am surprised to see you, who are a foreigner, as 
w^ell acquainted with the inhabitants as a native.” 

“ I have lived here many years,” replied Turchi. “ These 
gentlemen are frequent visitors at the house of Mr. Van de 
Werve, and I have seen them so often, that I know them as 
old friends. Look at the corner near the piano, where those 
collected together laugh merrily, jest, and chat socially. 
You may easily recognize them by their light playful man- 
ners as artists.” 

“Yes. Is not that handsome man with noble features 
Frans Floris, the Flemish Kaphael ? ” 

“Yes ; he was presented to you yesterday by Mr. Van de 
Werve, and you may remember how enthusiastically he 
eulogized Italian art.” 

“Near him is a singular-looking person; his very attitude 
is amusing, and his gestures force one to laugh.” 

“He is Peter Breughel, a humorist, who so designs his 
pictures that they seem painted only by way of jest. He is, 
however, in good repute as an artist. I saw recently one of 
his pictures in which he represents the Saviour carrying his 
cross to Calvary. In this he represents pilgrims with their 
staves, Spanish soldiers in doublets, monks and nuns ; there 
is even a statue of the Blessed Virgin suspended on a tree, 
and that at a time w^hen there was no Christianity, no Saint 
James of Compostella, neither convents nor Spaniards.” 

“That is indeed singular,” said Deodati, smiling. “It 
seems to me that such conceits do but very little honor to 
the artist. Is it a custom among other artists in the Nether- 
lands to sport thus with holy things ? ” 

“ No ; Signor Breughel is an exception. The other gentle- 
men in company with the Flemish Raphael are more serious 
men. Michael Coxie, whom you may distinguish by the 
gray doublet, excels in his portraits of women. The hand- 
some young man standing behind him is Martin de Vos, a 
pupil of Floris ; he evinces a high order of talent and gives 
promise of great perfection in his art. The others, as well 
8 


86 


THE AMULET. 


as I can recognize them at this distance, are Lambert Van 
Noord, Egide Mostaert, William Key, Bernard de Kycke, 
and the two brothers Henry and Martin Van Cleef, all cele- 
brated historical, fancy, or portrait painters. Near them is 
Master Grimmer, a famous landscape-painter ; and the gen- 
tleman now speaking is a certain Ack of Antwerp, who has 
painted the large glass windows of the church of Saint 
Gudula at Brussels. The old man sitting apart near the 
piano is Christian ; he has marvellous skill in playing on 
many instruments, but he excels most on the violin. You 
will probably hear him this evening.” 

Simon Turchi continued to converse familiarly with the 
Signor Deodati, who was charmed with his intelligence, but 
still more with the kind consideration which made him re- 
frain from joining in the general conversation in order to 
entertain an old man. 

Geronimo had several times approached his uncle, but 
each time the latter had playfully sent him away, telling 
him that the agreeable company of the Signor Turchi suf- 
ficed for him, and that he preferred a quiet conversation. 

In the meantime the conversation among the guests had 
become more general. Noblemen and bankers, merchants 
and literary men, manufacturers and artists, were mingling 
with each other ; rank and condition were disregarded, and 
the animated conversation of the company resounded through 
the hall like the humming of a swarm of bees. 

At this moment the servants entered, bringing silver 
waiters on which were wines of every description, pastry, 
cakes, rare fruits, and other refreshments. 

They passed through the room offering the wines to the 
guests. 

“Gentlemen, a glass of Malmsey, Khenish wine, claret, 
sherry. Muscatel?” 

Whilst these delicious drinks and delicacies were thus 
distributed, Geronimo never lost sight of Mr. Van de Werve, 
but observed him with an eye full of hope and expectation. 


THE AMULET. 


87 


When at last he saw Mr. Van de Werve leave the room, 
a bright smile illumined his face. Geronimo knew that Mr. 
Van de Werve sometimes gratified his friends and acquaint- 
ances by allowing his beautiful daughter to be present at 
their evening reunion for about an hour, and he had been 
impatiently awaiting the moment when the young girl would 
appear. 

Simon Turchi, although apparently so unmoved, had con- 
stantly watched Mary’s betrothed, noticed the radiant ex- 
pression of his countenance, and understood the cause. 

Mary was coming ! Perhaps the whole company would 
know that his suit had been rejected, and Tihat Geronimo 
had succeeded where the powerful administrator of the house 
of Buonvisi had failed ! 

This thought deeply wounded his pride. He scowled at 
Geronimo, who was looking in another direction. Page and 
jealousy goaded him almost to madness; he felt that the 
scar on his face, by its deepening hue, would betray his 
emotion, and to conceal it he covered his eyes with his hand. 

Deodati asked him with interest : 

“ What is the matter. Signor Turchi ? Are you ill ?” 

“The heat is intolerable,” said Simon, endeavoring to 
master his feelings. 

“ Heat ? ” murmured Deodati ; “ it does not seem to me 
very warm. Shall I accompany you for a few moments to 
the garden, signor ? ” 

But Turchi raised his head, and smiling in an unconcerned 
manner, said : 

“ Many thanks, signor, for your kindness. I feel much 
better. I had been looking too long at the large lustre, and 
its brilliant light made me dizzy. But let us rise, signor, 
there is the beautiful Mary, la bionda maraviglia!” 

Mr. Van de Werve appeared at this moment at the door, 
and introduced his beloved child. A murmur of admiration 
ran through the assembly, and room was made for the father 
and daughter. 


88 


THE AMULET. 


The beauty of Mary surpassed all expectation. Her dress 
consisted of a flowing robe of silver-colored satin, with no 
other ornament than a girdle of gold thread. Her own 
blonde hair was arranged around her head in the form of a 
crown, in the centre of which were placed some white flowers 
fastened by choice pearls. But the admiration of the spec- 
tators was excited by her large blue eyes, her brilliant com- 
plexion, the dignified sweetness of her expression, the gentle, 
innocent, modest smile which mirrored on her face the peace 
and joy of her soul. 

Geronimo had never before seen Mary dressed in this 
style. On the’ contrary, she generally wore dark or unob- 
trusive colors. Decked as she now was in pure white, she 
had the appearance of a bride. It was, of course, by her 
father’s request ; but what did it mean ? Did he intend by 
this to make it known that Mary was betrothed, and would 
soon be wedded ? Such thoughts as these agitated Geronimo 
as the young girl accompanied her father into the room. 

The old Deodati rose and advanced to meet her. Simon 
Turchi took advantage of this movement to retire a short 
distance ; for, as his eye fell on the beautiful girl, rage filled 
his heart as he reflected that this noble and pure woman 
would have been his wife had not Geronimo blasted the 
happiness of his life. 

The lightning-like glance of hate and envy which he cast 
upon Geronimo was a sinister menace of death. Happily 
for him, all eyes were turned towards the young girl, other- 
wise many a one might have read the dark soul of Simon 
Turchi and discovered the horrible design he had conceived. 

Mr. Van de Werve introduced his daughter to his guests. 
All expressed in courteous terms their admiration and their 
pleasure in her society. 

The noble young girl received the felicitations and com- 
pliments addressed to her with a gentle and dignified self- 
possession. There were in her manner and tone of voice a 
rare modesty and reserve, and at the same time an exquisite 


THE AMULET. 


89 


politeness. Still more astonishing was her rich and varied 
knowledge. Whether conversing with a Spaniard, French- 
man, Italian, or German, she spoke to each in his own tongue ; 
but the beautiful Italian language assumed additional sweet- 
ness on her lips. 

When presented to the old Deodati, she took both his 
hands and spoke to him so tenderly and affectionately that, 
overcome by emotion, he could only say a few grateful 
words in acknowledgment. 

Passing by Simon Turchi, she said cheerfully : 

“ God be praised. Signor Turchi, that your health is so 
soon restored ! I am happy to see you here this evening. I 
am sincerely grateful to you, signor, for the friendship you 
manifest to the nephew of Signor Deodati. You have a 
good and generous heart, and I thank God for having given 
so devoted a friend to Geronimo and his uncle!” 

The gentle words of the young girl were intolerable tor- 
ture to Turchi ; the wound on his face, betraying his emo- 
tion, became of a deep-red color. And yet it was abso- 
lutely necessary for him to appear calm, and to reply 
cordially to the kind salutation of the young girl ; for there 
were at least twenty persons near him and within hearing 
of wlmt passed. 

By a powerful effort he mastered his emotion, referring it 
to the impression made upon him by her appearance. He 
spoke also of sacrifices, which, even when voluntarily made, 
painfully wound the heart ; of a self-abnegation which could 
find its consolation in the happiness of a friend, but which 
failed not to leave a sting in the soul that had cherished fal- 
lacious hopes. 

Mary understood him, and was grateful for his kindness. 

“ Thanks, thanks, signor,” she said, warmly, as she passed 
on to salute other guests. 

When Mary approached the piano, and addressed a few 
kind words to Master Christian, many Italian gentlemen 
begged her to favor them with a canzone, 

8 * 


90 


THE AMULET. 


With her father’s permission, the young girl consented to 
gratify the guests. She hesitated awhile as to the language 
in which to sing, and was turning over the leaves of a book 
handed her by Master Christian. The old Deodati ex- 
pressed a wish to hear a song in the language of the Low 
Countries, and begging pardon of the Italian gentlemen, 
Mary said she would sing a Kyrie Eleison in her maternal 
tongue. 

Master Christian seated himself at the piano, to accom- 
pany her, and commenced a prelude. 

The first notes of the young girl were like a gentle mur- 
mur. By degrees her voice became firmer and stronger, 
until at the end of each strophe the word eleison rose like a 
sonorous hymn to heaven. 

The measure was remarkably slow, simple, and full of 
a tranquil melody. Mary evidently felt the peculiar char- 
acter of this chant, for instead of endeavoring to add to the 
effect, she softened still more her singularly sweet voice, and 
let the words drop slowly from her lips, as if the songstress 
herself were ravished in contemplation and was listening to 
celestial music. 

At first the Italian gentlemen exchanged glances, as if to 
express the thought that this chant could not compart with 
the brilliant lively style of the Italian music. But this un- 
favorable opinion was not of long duration. They, like all 
others, soon yielded to the irresistible fascination of Mary’s 
exquisite voice. They listened with such rapt attention that 
not the slightest movement was made in the room, and one 
might have heard the murmur of the leaves in the garden 
as they were gently stirred by the breeze of May. 

Mary had concluded her song and lifted her eyes to 
heaven with an expression of adoration. All who gazed 
upon her felt as though they were contemplating an angel 
before the throne of God. Even Simon Turchi was sub- 
dued by admiration, and he even momentarily lost sight of 
the hatred and jealousy which lacerated his heart. 


i 


THE AMULET. 


91 


Mary thus sang : 

Kyrie ! Lo, our God comes, 

Mankind to save from ill and bless : 

What grateful joy should break our gloom 
And fill our hearts with happiness ! 

Kyrie eleison ! — God is born ! 

A virgin mother gives him birth ; 

And sin’s dark bonds asunder torn, 

Sweet heaven again inclines to earth. 

Kyrie ! — hear ! — the sacred font 
Pours forth its saving waters free — 

And Thou impressest on our front 
The sign that drives our foes away. 

Christe ! — anointed victim ! — Thou, 

Who in thy death bestowest life — 

The healing remedy for woe — 

Ah ! earth with many a woe is rife. 

Christe eleison ! — brother dear — 

Our liberator from all ill — 

Strong in Thy virtue, free from fear, 

And be our help to virtue still. 

Christe eleison! God and man — 

Our only consolation here — 

Oh ! do not leave us ’neath the ban 
Of sorrow perilous and drear. 

Oh I Kyrie, Father — Kyrie Son — 

Kyrie Spirit — we adore 

The Triune God — Thee, only One! > 

Grant we may praise Thee evermore! 

Silence reigned in the room some moments after the last 
sound had died away, and then arose a murmur of admira- 
tion, and the young girl was overwhelmed with felicitations. 

Whilst being thus complimented, Mary noticed Geronimo 
at a little distance from her. Desirous, perhaps, of escaping 
the praises lavished upon her, or, it may be, yielding to a 
real desire, she approached the young man, drew him towards 
the piano, and insisted upon his singing an Italian aria. 


92 


THE AMULET. 


Geronimo at first refused, but his uncle requested him to 
yield to the entreaties of the young girl. Taking up a lute, 
he hastily tuned it, and sang the first word of the aria 
Italia ! in such a tone of enthusiasm that it struck a re- 
sponsive chord in every Italian heart. The notes fell from 
his lips like a shower of brilliant stars ; his bosom heaved, 
his eyes sparkled, and his rich tenor voice filling the hall 
produced an indescribable effect upon the auditors. As his 
song proceeded, it seemed to gain in expression and vigor, 
and as he repeated the refrain Mia hella Italia! for the 
last time, his compatriots were so carried away by their en- 
thusiasm that, forgetful of decorum, all, even the most aged, 
waved their caps, exclaiming : 

Italia! Italia!” 

Tears stood in the eyes of many. 

Geronimo was complimented by all present. His uncle 
called him his beloved son, Mary spoke to him in the most 
flattering manner, and Mr. Van de Werve shook hands with 
him cordially. 

As to Simon Turchi, he was overpowered ; all he had just 
seen and heard was such a martyrdom ; jealousy so gnawed 
his heart that he sank deeper and deeper into the abyss of 
hatred and vengeance. He stood a few steps from Gero- 
nimo, his eyes downcast, and trembling with emotion. 

No one noticed him. Had he attracted attention, his 
friends would have supposed that, like the other Italians, he 
had been moved by the chant of his compatriot. 

Turchi soon roused himself. Like a man who has taken 
a sudden resolution, he walked up to Geronimo, smiled 
pleasantly, and thre|^ his arms around his neck. 

“Thanks, thanks, Geronimo!” he exclaimed. “You 
have made me truly happy by giving me additional cause 
to be proud of my country.” 

While embracing him, he also whispered : 

“ Geronimo, I wish to speak privately to you this evening. 
I will go to the garden presently ; try to follow me ; you 
will be pleased.” 


THE AMULET. 


93 


Having said these words, he fell back as if to make way 
for Mr. Fugger, the rich banker, who wished to offer his 
congratulations. 

The servants reappeared in the hall with wines and vari- 
ous delicacies. 

Master Christian was tuning his violin. The guests, in- 
formed that this excellent artist was about to entertain them 
with his wonderful skill, drew* near the piano. 

Geronimo, perplexed by the words of Simon Turchi, 
watched his friend and sought an opportunity to speak to 
him alone. He saw him leave the room, and as the entrance 
of the servants with refreshments, and the desire of the 
guests to approach Master Christian, had caused a stir 
among the company, the young man was enabled to rejoin 
Simon in the garden. 

The garden, situated in the rear of the house, although 
not large, was crossed by several winding paths, and along 
the wall were wide-spreading trees and blocks of verdure. 

When Geronimo entered the garden, he perceived several 
persons who had left the heated apartment to enjoy the fresh 
air, and who were walking in different directions. 

As he was seeking in the dim light to distinguish Simon 
Turchi, the latter approached from an arbor, took his arm 
and led him in silence to a retired part of the garden, where 
he seated himself on a bench, and said in low tone : 

“ Sit down, Geronimo ! I have good news for you.” 

“ Ah ! have you succeeded in obtaining the money ? ” 

“I have been successful. But come nearer ! no one must 
overhear us. A foreign merchant, whom I saved two years 
ago from dishonor and ruin, at the risk of my own destruc- 
tion, will furnish me with the means of returning you the 
ten thousand crowps.” 

“ God be praised ! ” said Geronimo, with a sigh of relief. 
“ He will not long delay, I hope, to fulfil his generous de- 
signs.” 

‘‘ I will pay you to-morrow what I owe you.” 


94 


THE AMULET. 


“ To-morrow ? how fortunate ! ” 

“But, Geronimo, I cannot bring you the money; you 
must come for it yourself.” 

“ It would be a trifle were I obliged to go to Cologne.” 

“You need not go so far. Only go to my country-seat 
near the hospital. Silence ! some one approaches ! ” 

After a moment’s silence, Turchi resumed : 

“He has passed. You must know, Geronimo, that the 
foreign merchant desires his presence in Antwerp to remain 
unknown, and I have promised to keep him concealed in 
my garden for several days.* He wishes to assist me, but 
he is over-prudent and distrustful. I will sign the receipt 
for the sum he lends me. He requires, for greater security, 
that you sign it also.” 

“ What mystery is this ? ” said the young man. “ I must 
sign with you for security ! Who is this merchant ? Is he 
a fugitive from justice ? ” 

“What has that to do with the affair? It is not my 
secret, Geronimo, and I promised to conceal his name. If 
you be saved from your present embarrassment, will you not 
have attained your object ? It is true that you will be my 
security, but the ten thousand crowns will be in the money 
vault, and your uncle will not find one florin missing. Your 
only danger would arise from an inability on my part to 
meet the note. But you need fear nothing in that respect. 
In a few months my resources will be abundant. I take this 
step only to save you from a present imminent danger. You 
must know, Geronimo, that I would prefer to have you 
alone for my creditor.” 

“ Certainly, Simon, and I am most grateful to you for your 
kindness. Will this merchant give me the amount in coin?” 

“No, but in bills of exchange on Milan, Florence, and 
Lucca.” 

* “ Geronimo, a merchant from Lyons desires to see you, but as he does 
not wish to be known at Antwerp now, lie is concealed in my garden. 
He begs that you will meet him there.” — Matteo Bandello. 


THE AMULET. 


95 


“Good and reliable bills, Simon?” 

“You shall be the judge before accepting them. Fear 
nothing, you shall be fully satisfied.” 

“Well, I will go. After Change, between five and six 
o’clock, will that answer?” 

“ It makes no difference to me, provided I know the hour 
beforehand.” 

“ Expect me, then, to-morrow, between five and six o’clock. 
But let us return to the house. Our long absence might 
cause remark.” 

Simon Turchi arose, but remained standing in the same 
spot, and said : 

“ Geronimo, I have promised the merchant that none but 
yourself shall know of his presence in Antwerp. Say noth- 
ing, therefore, to your uncle, to Mary, nor to any one else. 
The least indiscretion might disarrange our plans, and be 
perilous to the stranger. Come alone, without any at- 
tendant.” 

“ I will do as you direct,” said Geronimo, “ but it will be 
impossible for me to remain until dark. My uncle will be 
seriously displeased if I go out again at night without a 
sufficient guard.” 

“ I will not detain you over half an hour.” 

At that moment a servant from the house entered the 
garden looking for Geronimo. 

“Signor Geronimo,” he said, “Mr. Van de Werve is in- 
quiring for you, as Miss Van de Werve is about to retire 
from the company, and Signor Deodati wishes to return 
home. He is awaiting you.” 

The two gentlemen followed the servant; on the way, 
Turchi again said in a low voice : 

“ To-morrow, between the hours of five and six.” 

The old Deodati was already at the door with five or six 
attendants. He was displeased by the long absence of his 
nephew, and was about to remonstrate with him. But, by 
Turchi’s explanation, this want of attention was pardoned. 


96 


THE AMULET. 


and he was even permitted to bid a hasty adieu to Mary and 
her father. 

He returned almost immediately, and offering his arm to 
his uncle, he left Mr. Van de Werve’s house. 

As he moved on, Simon Turchi glanced at him entreat- 
ingly, as if to insist upon secrecy. 


CHAPTER VI. 

SIMON TUECHI WREAKS HIS VENGEANCE ON GERONIMO. 

I T was about five o’clock in the afternoon. Julio was 
seated in one of the rooms of his master’s dwelling, his 
arms crossed upon his breast. Absorbed in deep thought, 
he had his eyes fixed on an arm-chair which stood near the 
only window in the room, and from time to time he shook 
his head with an expression of anxious doubt. 

The footsteps of a man in the room above interrupted his 
reflections ; an ironical smile passed over his features as he 
muttered : 

“ He calls me a coward, the dastard that he is ! For one 
hour he has been running about from room to room as though 
pursued by invisible spectres. How cunningly he has de- 
vised the whole afiair in his own interest. Julio is to kill 
poor Geronimo! Julio is to bury the body in the cellar! 
Julio is to do all by himself! When we deal with false people, 
we must be on our guard. His intention is clear enough 
to me; he wishes to secure means, in case of necessity, of 
accusing me alone of the crime. He may threaten and rage 
as much as he pleases ; he shall deal the mortal blow him- 
self, or Geronimo shall leave this place unharmed.” 

Julio remained silent for a few moments, passed his hand 
across his brow, and said, looking at the chair: 


THE AMULET. 


97 


“Think that in one hour that infernal seat will hold a 
corpse ! The corpse of the most noble, affable gentleman I 
have ever known. May his good angel prevent him from 
visiting this cut-throat place ! Signor Turchi will kill him ; 
but I must aid him.* What will be the end of this bloody 
tragedy? The scaffold for the master, and the gallows for 
the servant. This is the consequence of my disorderly life. 
Had I not gone, in a moment of intoxication, and without 
knowing it, to the place where Judge Voltai was assassinated, 
I would not have been obliged to fly from my country, and 
Signor Turchi would not have it in his power to force me to 
become his accomplice in a frightful crime. The old cure 
of Porto-Fino said truly, that ‘Sin is a labyrinth; if once we 
enter, we loose the thread which enables us to return to 
virtue.’ Ah ! would I were with my mother in Italy. Use- 
less wish. It is too late ; I am banished from my country, 
and a price set on my head.” 

He reflected for a few moments, then, with a gesture of 
impatience, he resumed : 

“ Come, come ; of what good are all such thoughts ? I 
am in his power, and I must yield to necessity ; but once let 
the blow be struck, once let him commit a crime of which I 
can produce the proofs, then I will be master, and in my 
turn I will cry in his ears : ‘ Simon Turchi, fear the bailiff 
and the executioner ! ’ At the present moment I am power- 
less ; if I took any means to prevent the attempt, he might 
destroy all evidence of his criminal design, and deliver me 
up to the authorities of Lucca. I would be taken into Italy 
and broken on the wheel, in the very place where my poor 
old mother lives. I have always been a cause of sorrow to 
her; at least I will spare her this last disgrace. But the 
signor is coming down. He will reiterate his entreaties to 

^ “This chair being made, he told one of his servants, named Julio, 
who was proscribed in Italy, and under sentence of death.” — Van Me» 
teren. History of the Low Countries, 


98 


THE AMULET. 


me to strike the fatal blow ; but I will not have the blood 
of this innocent gentleman on me.” 

Simon Turchi was approaching. His face was very pale, 
but the scar which furrowed his cheek was of a more ashy 
hue. He did not tremble, but he walked precipitately, and 
he clasped his hands convulsively, like a man whose im- 
patience can brook no delay. 

He noticed that his servant was in deep thought, his head 
bowed upon his chest, and it was only on his near approach 
that Julio suddenly roused from his preoccupation. He 
entered the room and said : 

“Julio, the hour is nigh. Of what are you thinking? 
Are you afraid?” 

“Afraid?” replied Julio, with a. light laugh; “why should 
J be afraid?” 

“ True, true,” murmured Simon, “ since I alone shall shed 
his blood.” 

“ But,” continued Julio, “ if I have no cause for personal 
fear, would not love for my master fill me with painful 
thoughts ? Signor, you are playing for dangerous stakes.” 

“ Who will know what has taken place here ? ” 

“ Who ? Is there not an eye above which sees all ? And 
whilst here, in the deepest secrecy, you immolate a human 
being to your thirst for vengeance, will not God hear the 
cry of agony of the Signor Geronimo ? ” 

Julio saw, with a secret joy, that his words made his mas- 
ter tremble, although he tried to dissemble his feelings under 
an assumed insensibility, 

“ What a good joke ! ” replied Simon ; “ Pietro Mostajo 
talking of God ! My precautions are too well taken ; when 
the cellar will be the depository of the secret, there will be 
none to tell it.” 

“Do you think so, signor? When has such a murder 
ever remained concealed ? It is not surprising that I bowed 
my head in thought. In imagination I saw such terrible 
things that I dare not tell them to you. Tears still Ml niy 
eyes at the thought.” 


THE AMULET. 


99 


‘‘What did you see?” asked Turchi, with increasing 
anxiety. 

“ What did I see ? The bailiff and his attendants. They 
bound a man’s hands behind his back ; they dragged him 
through the streets like an odious criminal ; the people cast 
filth and dirt upon the prisoner, and cried out, ‘ Murderer ! ’ 
What did I see ? A scafibld, and on this scaffold an execu- 
tioner and one condemned to death ; then a sword glittered 
in the sunlight, it fell, a stream of blood flowed, and a head 
rolled in the dust.” 

The servant stopped intentionally ; but his master con- 
vulsively caught his arm, and said in a hoarse voice : 

“ What then ? What then ? ” 

“ And then the crowd applauded and poured out maledic- 
tions upon the name.” 

“ Whose name ?” 

“ Yours, signor?” 

Simon Turchi was so overpowered by the picture thus 
presented of his probable end, that he uttered a cry of terror 
and sprang back, trembling. He cast down his eyes for a 
moment in silence. 

Julio contemplated the signor,_ thus overpowered by emo- 
tion, with a derisive smile. He had not called up this vivid 
scene solely as a means to induce his master to renounce his 
perilous enterprise ; his motive was also to terrify him and 
to revenge himself for the violence he had been forced to 
endure from him. 

The impression made upon Simon Turchi by this highly- 
wrought prediction did not last long. He raised his head, 
and said, in a contemptuous manner : 

“ Base hypocrite ; it is your own fear which excites your 
imagination to see such things. The most courageous man 
would become cow^ardly with the cowardly. It is unfortu- 
nate for me that I need you, otherwise I would soon rid my- 
self of your presence. But I, at least, will not recoil from 
the undertaking. Speak ; tell me how far I may depend upon 


100 


THE AMULET. 


you. The clock will soon strike, and there is no time for 
hesitation.” 

“We will see which of us will the more coolly perform 
his part of the task. You are mistaken, signor ; fear does 
not disturb me. Sympathy for you suggested the train of 
thought, and I considered it my duty to place before your 
eyes once more the abyss into which you might fall.” 

“ Be silent ; it is too late,” exclaimed Simon Turchi, be- 
side himself with rage. “ Fool, do you desire my ruin — my 
eternal dishonor ? Shall I let my enemy livp ? Shall I let 
him — him the husband of Mary Van de Werve — look down 
upon me from the height of his grandeur and felicity? No, 
no. I myself will be, must be, happy, rich, prosperous; 
and even should all ascape my grasp ; should the scaffold be 
my lot, the rage of vengeance which lacerates my heart 
must be satisfied. . . . Nothing, nothing, can restrain me; 
and, Julio, were you an obstacle in my path, I would pass 
over your dead body to strike a fatal blow at him who has 
poisoned my life. Do not attempt to thwart me, or I will 
crush you where you stand.” 

At these words Simon Turchi placed his hand on the hilt 
of his sword ; his face was scarlet, his lips trembled, and his 
eyes flashed. 

This threat did not disturb Julio, probably because he 
thought his master could not execute it. An ironical smile 
played upon his lips; he stepped back one or two paces, . 
drew his knife, and said, mockingly : 

“ It would be strange, signor, if Geronimo should find us 
engaged in a combat. It might save his life.” 

“ What ! would you dare ? ” 

“ Why not? Do you think Julio would permit himself to 
be led like a sheep to the slaughter ? 

“ Listen ! He comes ! ” exclaimed Simon Turchi, starting 
with terror. 

The repeated strokes of the knocker resounded through 
the court-yard where the little door gave entrance into the 
garden. 


THE AMULET. 101 

“Julio, I ask you again,” said Turchi, anxiously, “what 
reliance I may place upon you ? ” 

“ I will do what I have promised — neither more nor 
less.” 

“ Then go open the door. Be guarded in your words, and 
show no disquietude. Bring him to this room; tell him 
that I am engaged with the foreign merchant; if he does 
not sit down at once, watch a favorable moment to lead him 
to the arm-chair. Then call me and I will do the rest.” 

“ You, then, are determined to make me entice the Signor 
Geronimo to sit down in the arm-chair ? ” 

Turchi replied in a threatening voice and with flashing eyes : 

“ Pietro Mostajo, remember the Superintendent of Lucca.” 

Julio left the building, went to the garden-gate and 
opened it. 

“ Benvenuto, Signor Geronimo,” he said, “ what good luck 
brings you here on a visit to my master ? It is a long time 
since we have seen you.” 

“ It is indeed a long time,” replied the young noble with 
a genial smile, as he walked towards the house. “ But the 
place looks so wild and uncared for. Did not the Signor 
Turchi speak of having the garden put in order?” 

“ Yes ; but for some time my master has been very melan- 
choly, and nothing seems to give him pleasure.” 

“ I know it, Julio ; but things will be better for him now.” 

“ Would that your words were true, signor ! ” 

“ What a heavy sigh, Julio. You excite my fears. Is 
your master ill ? ” 

The servant felt the importance of self-control, if he would 
not arouse the gentleman’s suspicions. He therefore said, 
in a careless manner : 

“ Nothing is the matter, signor. My master is very well, 
and to-day is in a good humor. Ever since I saw Bufierio’s 
sword lifted against you, I have suffered from an occasional 
sudden palpitation of the heart I find relief only in a deep 
sigh.” 


9 * 


102 


THE AMULET. 


As they thus talked together, he conducted Geronimo to 
the room containing the large arm-chair. 

“Signor Geronimo,” he said, “my master is up-stairs. 
I will inform him of your arrival. Please be seated.” 

Julio left the room ; but instead of ascending the stair- 
case, he hid himself behind a door and listened attentively 
to hear the clasping of the springs of the chair. 

After having waited in vain for a long time, he returned 
to the room, and said to the gentleman : 

“ Signor, my master begs you to excuse him for a while. 
He is engaged transacting some business with the merchant 
of whom he spoke to you yesterday. They are preparing a 
writing for you. Have the kindness to wait a few mo- 
ments.” 

He now thought that Geronimo would, of his own accord, 
take the arm-chair, and with a beating heart he observed 
his movements. But he was disappointed, for the young 
cavalier stood at the window, gazing thoughtfully into the 
garden. 

Although Julio knew with what mistrust and impatience 
his master was counting each passing moment, he said to 
Geronimo, with assumed indifference : 

“ It is at least half a mile from the Dominican Convent to 
this place, and you must be fatigued after your walk. Will 
you not rest in this arm-chair, signor ? ” 

“ No, I thank you. I am not in the least fatigued. I 
love to look at those beautiful trees clothed in their fresh 
May verdure.” 

An involuntary movement of impatience escaped the 
servant. 

“ You need not remain here on my account, Julio,” said 
Geronimo. “ Go to your work ; I will stay alone.” 

“ I have no urgent occupation, signor. If I still remain, 
contrary to your wish, it is to ask you a question ; and yet 
I fear that you will be displeased at my boldness.” 

“Not at all, Julio. Can I render you any service? It 


THE AMULET. 


103 


will give me pleasure to slioiv my gratitude tor the courage 
with which you defended me when I was attacked by the 
ruffians.” 

“ I had no reference to that. I heard you were about to 
marry the beautiful Miss Van de Werve. The news rejoiced 
me ; but may your humble servant make free to ask you if 
it be true?” 

The name of his betrothed flushed his cheek with joy, and 
he answered, with a smile: 

“ Yes, Julio, it is true.” 

“ How blessed you are, signor ! ” 

“Yes, Julio, God has bestowed upon me the greatest 
earthly blessing, for which I shall eternally thank him. On 
the solemn day of our nuptials you will have cause to re- 
joice.” 

“ I, signor ? ” 

“Yes, you, Julio. Miss Van de Werve wishes to recom- 
pense you herself for the assistance you gave me against 
Bufierio and his comrades. The day of my marriage you 
will receive a new cloak, a new doublet, new small-clothes 
of fine cloth and silk, such as a servant has never worn.” 

Julio, touched by this proof of kindness, stammered his 
thanks indistinctly. He heard the young man speaking to 
him and telling him how richly he deserved such a present, 
but he paid no attention to the words ; he was endeavoring 
to bring himself to the degree of audacity requisite to fulfil 
his master’s orders. Geronimo stood immediately in front 
of the arm-chair. 

With bitter repugnance, but incited by the fear that no 
more favorable opportunity would present itself, he ap- 
proached Geronimo as though to express his thanks anew. 
With one bound he sprang upon him, placed a hand on 
either shoulder, and pushed him forciby into the chair.* 

* “And the said Julio pushed Geronimo into a large arm-chair, which 
sprang and closed.” — Origin and Genealogy of the Dukes and Duchesses 
of Brabant. Antwerp, 1565 ; p. 308. 


104 


THE AMULET. 


The seat of the deceptive piece of furniture sank down ; 
from the arms started two powerful springs, which caught 
the young man around the waist, and held him so tightly 
against the back of the chair that it was impossible for him 
to move. 

“Julio, Julio, what horrible jest is this?” he exclaimed. 
“ Is it a trap ? Do you act by your master’s orders ?” 

But the servant, without saying a word in reply, left the 
room, closing the door behind him. 

“ Tell me, Julio,” asked Turchi, descending the staircase 
to meet his servant, “ is he caught ? ” 

“The chair has done its work,” replied Julio; “go do 
yours. Lose no time ; he might give an alarm which would 
betray us. The fear of death gives superhuman strength to 
a man’s lungs. Signor, it seems to me that my head is not 
safe on my shoulders. How does yours feel?” 

But Simon Turchi heeded not this jest. He muttered a 
few indistinct words, drew his sword, and rushed down the 
steps to wreak his vengeance on the unfortunate Geronimo. 

The servant remained where his master left him, listened 
to his footsteps until he heard the door of the fatal room 
open and then close again. 

At first no sound reached his ear, but soon he heard Ge- 
ronimo calling for help, and his master mocking and men- 
acing him; at least he judged this by the tones of their 
voices, for he was too far ofi* to distinguish the words. 
Urged by feeling rather than curiosity, he descended the 
staircase, and listened at the door of the room in which so 
horrible a crime was about to be committed. 

He heard Geronimo say, in an earnest, pleading tone : 

“ Dear Simon, your mind is deranged. You, my friend, 
kill me ! It is impossible. Put down that dagger ; at least 
let me not die without confession. If it be the ten thousand 
crowns exasperating you, I make you a present of them ; 
tear up in my presence the acknowledgment of the debt, 
and I will never speak to you of it again.” 


THE AMULET. 


105 


“Mary, Mary Van cle Werve!” howled Simon Turchi, 
with biting sarcasm. 

“ I will renounce her hand and leave for Italy, and never 
again will I see a country so fatal to me, to her, to all that 
I love.” 

“ It is too late — too late. You must die!” 

“ No, no, Simon ; in pity to yourself do not imbue your 
hands in my innocent blood. Gad sees us ; your conscience 
will torture you ; never again will there be peace for you on 
earth, and your poor soul will be miserable for all eternity. 
No, Simon, do not kill me.” 

Then came a frightful cry, as though he were crushed, 
and Julio heard a sound which seemed like that of a dagger 
against metal. 

This blow, however — if it were a blow — was not mortal, 
for Geronimo raised his voice with the strength of despair, 
and cried out : 

“ Help I help I Simon, let me live I Mercy I mercy ! ” 

Then a mournful groan escaped his lips, while, as his 
voice died away, he prayed : 

“ My God, my God, forgive him I I am dying.” 

On hearing the conclusion of this horrible tragedy, Julio 
retired to the foot of the staircase. He had hardly reached 
it, when the door of the room opened, and his master ap- 
peared. 

Disfigured as Simon Turchi’s countenance had been by 
the thirst for revenge, crime made it still more frightful. 
The signor could hardly have been recognized. His hair 
stood upright; his eyes rolled in their sockets; a hard, 
hoarse sound escaped his lips; blood dripped from his 
hands. 

He ran by his servant without speaking to him, ascended 
the staircase, and having reached his room he threw himself 
panting upon a chair. 

Julio, who had followed him, placed himself before him, 
and asked : 


106 


THE AMULET. 


“Well, signor, is the deed accomplished?” 

“ It is ; let me take breath,” said Turchi, breathing 
heavily. 

After waiting a few moments, Julio resumed: 

“ Did he offer any resistance, that you are so fatigued, 
signor ? ” 

“Resistance? No; but when I attempted the first time 
to pierce him to the heart, the blade of my dagger struck 
against metal, and grated harshly. He wears a breastplate, 
Julio. Could he have suspected my intentions ? ” 

Turchi’s dagger had evidently struck the amulet which 
the young man always wore around his neck. 

“Possibly,” replied Julio, “Geronimo may wear some 
guard on his breast ; it is the place against which a poignard 
is always aimed, and no one is secure in the darkness of 
night from the assault of an enemy or an assassin ; but what 
is there in this circumstance to move you so deeply ? ” 

“ So much blood spouted from the wound. The sight of 
the blood, together with Geronimo’s piteous cries, struck me 
with anguish and horror. I tottered so that I feared I would 
fall before completing the work ; but happily I gained the 
strength to finish what I had commenced. I pierced his 
throat with my poignard, and hushed his voice forever.” 

“ And is he really dead ? ” 

“ Not a drop of blood is left in his veins.” 

Simon Turchi had recovered from his excessive emotion. 
He arose and said : 

“ I must wash the blood from my hands, and efface the least 
spot that might betray me. Then I must go on ’Change and 
transact some business with people who will remember to have 
seen me there at that time. Later, I will call on Mr. Van 
de Werve. I must be seen in different places and speak 
with many people. Go down, Julio, and drag the corpse to 
the cellar. Then clear away every sign of blood. I need 
not tell you that your life, as well as mine, depends upon the 
care with which you perform this task.” 


THE AMULET. 


107 


“ I know it, signor. The blow has been struck, and I am 
not a man to neglect the precautions necessary to escape the 
gallows, if I can.” 

“I have accomplished my task, Julio ; go do yours.” 

“ Drag the corpse, by myself, into the cellar ? No, no, 
signor ; you must help me.” 

“ I have not the time, Julio. I must sro immediately to 
the city.” 

“ It is of no consequence to me. I will not remain alone 
in this cut-throat place.” 

“ And what if I ordered you to do so ? ” exclaimed Turchi, 
trembling with anger. 

“You would do so in vain, signor. You will work with 
me until all is done.” 

“ Pietro Mostajo, do you dare to defy me, and that too at 
the very moment when the blood is boiling in my veins ? 
Do as I command, or before night the authorities of Lucca 
shall know who you are.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Julio, with a scornful laugh, “ Pietro Mos- 
tajo and the authorities of Lucca have lost their power over 
me. As long as I had no proofs of crime against you, I had 
cause to fear you ; but would you dare now to reveal my 
real name, now that by one word I can deliver you into the 
hands of the executioner ? Hereafter, signor, you will speak 
to me neither so harshly nor so haughtily. In this affair 
there is neither master nor servant. We are two men, guilty 
of the same crime. Draw your dagger, if you choose. Vain 
threat ! Can you do without me ? ” 

Simon Turchi grit his teeth in impotent rage ; but soon 
recovering himself, he took his servant’s hand, and said 
beseechingly : 

“ You are right, Julio ; we are rather two friends than 
master and servant. Let me then, as friend and companion, 
implore a favor at your hands. You must see that it is im- 
portant for me to go without delay to the factory to change 
my dress. For the safety of both of us I ought to leave im- 


108 


THE AMULET. 


mediately for the city, in order to prevent suspicion. Gero- 
nimo is not heavy; you can, without difficulty, drag him 
down stairs.” 

The servant shook his head, but was evidently hesitating. 

“Come, Julio; I beg, I entreat you to do what the safety 
of both of us requires. You still hesitate, Julio ? I will re- 
ward you generously. This very evening I will give you 
two crowns if you tell me you have done faithfully and care- 
fully what I have requested.” 

“Will you be here, signor, when I return from the 
cellar?” 

“ I don’t know, Julio ; as soon as I have washed off the 
blood, I shall leave. Make haste, and possibly you may 
find me here. In all events I will wait for you this evening 
at the factory, and besides the two crowns, I will give you 
a whole bottle of Malmsey.” 

“ Agreed,” said Julio ; “ I will do my best to please you.” 

He descended the staircase, and when he reached the room 
where the horrible murder had been committed, he stood for 
a moment with his arms folded. He turned pale and shook 
his head compassionately. 

The poor Geronimo was extended in the chair, with his 
eyes closed. His head had fallen on the arm of the chair ; 
his two hands were joined, as if in prayer for his cruel mur- 
derer. His garments were saturated with blood, and his 
feet rested in a pool of blood. There was a large wound in 
his neck and another in his breast ; his face was not in the 
least stained, and although it was covered by the pallor of 
death, his countenance wore a sweet, tranquil expression, as 
though he had gently fallen asleep. 

“Poor Signor Geronimo!” said Julio, sigliing heavily. 
“ Beauty ! generosity I wealth I all fallen under the blade of 
a wretch I What is man’s life ? He, however, will in 
heaven, with God, be indemnified for his horrible death. 
And we? But the present is not the time for reflections and 
lamentations ; my pity will not restore this corpse to life. I 


THE AMULET. 


109 


must now close my eyes to the future, and fulfil my horrible 
task.” 

He knelt behind the chair, passed his arm under it, and 
turned a screw. The springs opened and loosed their hold 
upon the inanimate body. 

Julio held it b^the arms and dragged it through the hall 
until he reached a staircase conducting to a cellar. There 
he left the corpse, entered an adjoining room, and returned 
with a lamp. Holding the light in his hand, he descended 
until he reached a subterranean passage. Very deep under 
the ground, and at the end of this passage, was a kind of 
vaulted cellar closed by a heavy door. Julio opened the 
door, and by the light of the lamp examined a grave which 
had been dug in one corner of the cellar, and on the sides 
of which lay the earth which had been excavated.* 

After a rapid survey, he placed the lamp outside the door 
against the wall of the passage, and returned for the dead 
body. 

When he had carried his burden as far as the subterra- 
nean passage, he panted for breath and seemed overcome by 
fatigue. He, however, exerted all his strength in order to 
finish as soon as possible his painful task, and dragged the 
corpse into the cellar. There he let it fall upon the side of 
the grave already prepared for its reception. After resting a ^ 
few moments, he was about to cast it into the grave and 
cover it with earth, but he desisted, saying : 

“ Bah ! the poor young man will not run away. Perhaps 
Signor Turchi has not yet left. At any rate, I will first 
wash away the blood stains, and then I will return to bury 
the body.” 

He took the lamp and left the cellar, without closing the 
door. 

On reaching the room he found that his master had gone. 

* “ In the cellar . . . . in a grave which had been prepared by the 
said Julio to bury Geronimo after the commission of the murder.” — 
Origin and Genealogy of the Dukes and Duchesses of Brabant, 

10 


110 


THE AMULET. 


The solitude disquieted him, particularly as it was now 
nearly dark, and he could hardly hope to finish before night 
cleaning the blood-stained floors and staircase. 

He appeared, however, to submit to necessity, and pre- 
pared for his work by getting water and brushes. 

The evening was far advanced, and sti^l Julio was occu- 
pied in scouring. How it happened he could not understand, 
but new spots of blood were continually appearing, even in 
places that he had washed several times. This was particu- 
larly the case in the room where the murder had been com- 
mitted. Do what he would, he could not efface the marks 
of blood. The sweat poured down his cheeks and he vented 
his rage in angry words against his master. 

It may have been fatigue, or perhaps the deepening shades 
of night rendered his nervous system sensitive to the slightest 
impression ; for at the least sound of the wind through the 
leaves of the trees, at the least grating of the weathercock 
as it turned on its pivot, he stopped his work and looked 
anxiously around him. 

He succeeded, however, in stifling these emotions, and 
continued his labor on the fatal spot where the chair had 
stood. 

Finally he arose, took the lamp, examined attentively the 
whole floor, and said, with a kind of satisfaction : 

“ At last I have finished ! He who could discover a spot 
there could see through a stone. My arms are almost 
broken ; I can scarcely straighten myself. Now for my last 
task ! a grave is soon filled ; in a half hour I shall be far 
from this accursed place.” 

Saying these words, he left the room, and taking the lamp 
descended again the staircase leading to the cellar. 

When he had reached the middle of the subterranean 
passage, he suddenly stopped, turned pale from terror, and 
looked tremblingly around him. He thought he heard 
something, an unusual, mysterious sound, faint but distinct. 

Having listened for some time, he concluded that his 


THE AMULET. 


Ill 


imagination had deceived him. Summoning up all his reso- 
lution, he walked on towards the cellar, and through the open 
door he saw the corpse of Geronimo lying as he had left it. 

As he was approaching the cellar, full of anxiety and 
slackening his pace, suddenly a human voice fell upon his 
ear. There was articulate sound, no spoken word, but only 
a hollow groan. 

Julio, in an agony of terror, dropped the lamp. The oil 
extinguished the flame, and thus left in total darkness he 
fled from the cellar as rapidly as he could by groping along 
the wall. His heart beat violently, and his limbs tottered 
under him. 

He recovered himself a little only after attaining a dis- 
tant apartment and lighting a lamp. Here he remained a 
long time seated and buried in thought ; various expressions 
of fear, anger, and even raillery flitted across his face. 

At last he arose, drew a knife from its scabbard, and try- 
ing its sharpness, murmured : 

“I cannot bury him alive! Therefore I am forced to 
deal the death-blow! No, no, I will not; I have even 
braved the vengeance of my perfidious master in order not 
to imbue my hands in his blood, and I will not now be 
guilty of it. But what can I do ? I have no other alterna- 
tive. I must either bury him alive or kill him ! And I 
cannot stay here all night.” 

He took up the lamp and slowly and silently he cautiously 
descended the stairs leading to the cellar ; after some hesi- 
tation he entered ; Geronimo’s body still lay in the position 
he left it. 

Julio had taken this time a much larger lamp, and it 
lighted the whole cellar; he heard no sound from the 
breast of the unfortunate victim, although he saw plainly 
that life was not extinct, for there was a slight heaving of 
the breast. 

After listening a moment, Julio muttered, with a kind of 

joy: 


112 


THE AMULET. 


“No additional cruelty is necessary. He is in his death- 
agony, and he will soon die. I will shut the door and finish 
my work to-morrow. But my master will ask if all is done ? 
He need know nothing of this circumstance. But I long to 
get away; and may the vengeance of God fall upon this 
spot to-night, and blot out all memento of it ! ” 

Shortly after he left the garden, and with rapid strides 
threaded the obscure streets to rejoin his master, and also to 
cast off his blood-stained garments. 


CHAPTER YII. 

GEIEF AT GEROME’s ABSENCE — TURChBs HYPOCRISY. 

M ary van he WERVE was in her own apartment, 
kneeling before a silver crucifix; she seemed bowed 
down by a weight of woe. Her head rested upon her clasped 
hands. She had been weeping bitterly ; for there were traces 
of tears upon the prie-Dieu. 

Had a stranger surprised the young girl in this attitude, 
he might have thought that sleep had overpowered her 
during prayer ; but the gasping breath and heaving chest 
sufficiently attested that she had not sunk in sleep, but that 
she was plunged in an expressible sorrow. 

Behind her was seated an old woman, her duenna, with a 
rosary in her hand. She gazed upon the young girl with 
deep compassion ; from time to time she shook her head, 
and wiped away the tears which dimmed her eyes whenever 
Mary’s sighs became heavier. 

For some time the silence was unbroken ; Mary even ap- 
peared somewhat calmer, when suddenly, influenced by some 
peculiarly painful thought, she extended her arms to heaven 
and cried out ; 


113 


THE AMULET. 

“ My God and my Saviour ! through thy precious blood 
spare his life ! Have mercy on him ! reject not the prayer 
of my broken heart ! ’’ 

Again her head fell on her hands, as if this burning peti- 
tion had exhausted her strength. The duenna approached 
her, took her arm, endeavored to lift her, and said, authori- 
tatively : 

“ My lady, you must rise and cease your prayer. God 
may be displeased with you for thus deliberately endanger- 
ing your health. Come, obey me.” 

Mary arose without reply, and took the seat offered her 
by the duenna. She was very pale, and her eyes were 
swollen from weeping. 

The duenna looked upon her with an eye of pity ; she 
took her hand, and said, gently : 

“Mary, my child, you cannot continue this; such an 
excess of sorrow would shorten your days. And what pain 
to the poor Geronimo on his return, to find you condemned 
to a short and suffering life ! Through love for him, I beg 
you to control yourself.” 

“ On his return ? ” repeated Mary, raising her tearful eyes 
to heaven. 

“ Why not ? ” replied the duenna. “ Why despair before 
being certain of the evil you dread ? More extraordinary 
things have happened.” 

“Already five days — five centuries of suspense and fear! 
Ah! Petronilla, what a frightful night I passed! I saw 
Geronimo extended on the ground, the pallor of death on 
his face, a large wound was in his breast, and his lifeless 
eyes were fixed on me as if with his last breath he had bade 
me adieu.” 

“ These are illusions caused by grief, Mary.” 

“More than twenty times I saw him thus; in vain I 
strove to shut out the horrible vision ; day alone brought 
me relief.” 

The duenna took her hand, and said, tenderly : 

10* H 


114 


THE AMULET. 


“You are wrong, Mary, to cherish your grief in this 
manner. Your dreams at night were but the reflection of 
your thoughts by day. I, too, saw Geronimo in sleep more 
than once.” 

“You, too, Petronilla, you saw Geronimo ?” exclaimed the 
young girl, with emotion, as though she feared the confirma- 
tion of her own terrific dream. 

“Why not, Mary; do I think of him less than you?” 

“You saw him dying, did you not?” 

“On the contrary, I saw him return joyfully and cast 
himself into the arms of his uncle and embrace your father. 
And you, my child, I saw you kneeling on this same prie- 
Dieu, thanking God that your dreams were false and de- 
ceiving.” 

Mary smiled as she listened to the duenna^s consoling 
words, but scarcely had Petronilla ceased speaking than she 
suspected the artifice. 

“You deceive me through friendship and compassion,” 
she said, sadly. “ I am grateful to you, my good Petronilla ; 
but tell me to what cause you can attribute Geronimo’s 
absence. Come, call upon your imagination ; find a possible, 
probable explanation.” 

Disconcerted by this direct interrogation, the duenna 
shook her head. 

“ There is no plausible reason,” said Mary. 

The old Petronilla, in the greatest embarrassment, stam- 
mered out a few words as to an unexpected journey, secrets 
he might be unable to divulge ; she even suggested that his 
friends might have prevailed upon him to join in a party of 
pleasure ; but all these were such vague suppositions that 
Mary plainly saw in them an acknowledgment that she 
could find no reasonable explanation of Geronimo’s absence. 

Mary’s tears flowed faster. 

“ Oh, Petronilla ! ” she exclaimed, in heart-rending tones ; 
“ the light of my life is forever extinguished. Geronimo, so 
young, so good, so noble, so gifted^ the unfortunate victim 


THE AMULET. 


115 


of a mysterious murderer ! Frightful thought ! and no room 
for hope ! Mercy, my Godj mercy ! My heart is breaking ; 
never more will I see him in this world.” 

And uttering a cry of anguish, she covered her face with 
her hands. 

“I acknowledge, Mary,” said the duenna, dejectedly, 
“ that Geronimo’s absence is inexplicable ; but why look on 
the worst side and accept it as truth? You know that 
during the last four days every possible effort has been 
made to discover Geronimo. Mr. Van Schoonhoven, the 
bailiff, has pledged his honor to find him dead, or alive.” 

Mary wept in silence, and heeded not the words of the 
duenna. 

“ Perhaps, my child,” the old woman resumed, “ this very 
day the doubt which has caused you so much suffering for 
five days may be cleared up. Do not close your heart 
against all hope. I remember that once an individual was 
sought for weeks, and found alive when there seemed almost 
a certainty of his death. The bailiff was speaking of it this 
morning to your father, and I recollect having heard my 
parents relate it. It happened to a banker, Liefmans, who 
was considered very wealthy.” 

The young girl regarded the duenna with an air of doubt. 

“ They found him after feeveral weeks of absence ? Had 
he gone on a journey without giving notice to any one?” 

“No; he was discovered in the cellar of a house in the 
little by-street of Bureau. Pobbers had laid in wait for 
him in the darkness of night, and cast him bound into a 
subterranean cave, in order to obtain a heavy ransom. The 
agents of the bailiff discovered him and liberated him un- 
harmed. If God has so decreed, why may not the same 
have happened to the Signor Geronimo ? You are silent, 
Mary. You cannot deny that a similar train of circum- 
stances may have been the cause of his disappearance. Is 
it not so ? but you yield to despair, and even in the act of 
begging consolation from Almighty God, you reject obsti- 
nately every motive of consolation.” 


116 


THE AMULET. 


“Pity me, dear Petronilla,” answered the young girl; 
“ your kind words are a solace to me, but I dare not open 
my heart to the whisperings of hope. If I accepted your 
explanations, and afterwards . heard of Geronimo’s death, it 
would be double suffering to me. No, no, rather let me en- 
courage the feeling that there is no room for hope.” 

“ It is impossible to make any impression upon her, ” said 
the duenna, in a disappointed manner, and as if she were 
resolved to cease her efforts and to abandon the young gir] 
to her grief. 

The silence was broken by the sound of voices in the 
hall. 

“ I hear the voice of the Signor Deodati,” said the duenna ; 
“ perhaps he brings tidings.” 

Mary rose quickly to descend ; but Petronilla wished to 
detain her, saying : 

“ My child, in pity to a sorrowing old man, restrain your 
grief. Control yourself, Mary, for yesterday each word you 
uttered pierced the heart of the poor Deodati like a dagger. 
It would be cruel and guilty in you to cause his tears to 
flow anew ; at his age such afiliction wears down the strength 
and shortens life.” 

“ No, Petronilla, I will hide my feelings, and I will appear 
hopeful. I saw that the old man was overpowered by anxiety 
and trouble. Trust me, Petronilla, and let me go ; I must 
know from the Signor Deodati if he has received any in- 
formation.” 

The duenna accompanied the young girl to the door of 
the room where Mr. Van de Werve and Signor Deodati were 
conversing together, but she let her enter alone. 

As soon as Mary’s eye fell on the old man, and she read 
in his face the sorrow of his soul, she uttered a stifled cry 
of anguish. She cast her arms around his neck, and rested 
her head on his shoulder. 

The Signor Deodati, deeply moved, seated her by his side, 
and said, with tender compassion : 


THE AMULET. 


117 


“ My poor Mary, we have no tidings yet of our Geronimo. 
Are we not unhappy ? Why did not God recall me to him- 
self ere this ? Did I leave Italy and come hither to drink 
the bitter dregs in my chalice of life ? Could I weep like 
you, Mary, I might find some relief, but old age has dried 
up my tears. Alas ! alas ! where is my poor Geronimo, the 
child whom God gave me, to close my eyes on the bed of 
death ? I would give my fortune to save him, and the little 
that remains to me of life to know that he still lives.” 

Tears filled Mr. Van de Werve’s eyes as he contemplated 
his daughter and the desolate old man ; but he controlled 
his emotion, and said : 

“ Mary, I requested you to stay in your own apartment, 
because you cannot moderate the expression of your sorrow. 
You have disregarded my desire. I willingly pardon you, 
my child ; but if you wish to remain longer with Signor 
Deodati, you must exercise some self-control ; otherwise I 
shall send for your duenna to take you away.” 

He then added, in a more gentle manner : 

“ Now, Mary, I beg, I supplicate you, comprehend the 
duty devolving upon you. Be courageous, and do your best 
to console our unhappy friend.” 

With a heroic effort Mary raised her head, and although 
still weeping, said : 

“You are right, father. We grieve as though there were 
no room for hope; but — but — ” 

So great was the violence she was doing herself that she 
could scarcely draw her breath ; but conquering this emo- 
tion, she resumed : 

“ Ah ! signor, we cannot know. God is so good, and 
Geronimo has so pure a heart!” 

“ God is indeed good, my child ; but his designs are im- 
penetrable. If I could only imagine some probable cause 
to explain my nephew’s absence. But nothing — nothing 1 ” 

“ The bailiff* gave us, this morning, a reason for supposing 
that Geronimo may yet return to us unharmed.” 


118 


THE AMULET. 


“ You speak of the banker tiiefmans, do you not, father?” 

“Yes, my child. He disappeared suddenly. A fortnight 
had passed in useless inquiry ; his parents had the service 
for the dead offered for him, and he was found alive and 
well in a cellar, where some robbers had imprisoned him, in 
order by it to obtain a large sum of money.” 

“ And the same may happen to Geronimo ! ” said Mary, 
with a confidence she did not feel, in order to aid her father ^ 
in his kind intentions. 

Signor Deodati shook his head incredulously. 

Mary took his hand tenderly, and said, cheerfully : 

“We must hope, signor. Perhaps the Lord in his mercy 
will grant that our fears may not be realized. Would we 
not for the remainder of our lives offer our grateful prayers 
to heaven ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ; during our whole lives. And I would go in 
my old age to Our Lady of Loretto to express my boundless 
gratitude to the Madonna. But suppose he has fallen under 
the assassin’s sword?” 

Mary shuddered at the thought, but she interrupted the 
old man. 

“ Signor, Geronimo possessed an amulet which had rested ! 
onr the tomb of our Lord. He was convinced that it would ] 
preserve him from a violent death, and he always wore it ' 
around his neck.” * 

“ I know the circumstances under which the amulet was j 
given him,” replied Deodati. “ I myself had some faith in i 
this talisman, because it was the recompense of a good j 
action ; but we have no proof that the woman who gave it 
to Geronimo had any certain knowledge of its efi[icacy. 
However, Mary, we will still hope. Your sweet voice has 
mitigated my sorrow. May my poor nephew be restored to 
me. The happiness I expected in my old age may yet be a 
reality. You, Mary, — pure image of piety, goodness, and ; 
love, — you will be my child ! And when old Deodati will be 
called to leave this world, he will see you and Geronimo by 


THE AMULET. 


119 


his dying bed, like two angels, pointing out to his expiring 
soul the path to heaven. Oh ! no. no ; this would be too 
much happiness. My mind wanders. And. yet, Mary, let 
us hope ! ” 

The young girl was deeply moved by the picture of that 
happiness which she had thought was lost to her forever. 
Her eyes were suffused with tears ; her limbs trembled, and 
had not a stern look from her father reminded her of her 
duty, her oppressed heart would have found relief in sobs. 

Mr. Van de Werve thought it better to change the con- 
versation, and said to Deodati : 

“ Let us not forget, signor, tkat we are men, and that it 
becomes us to bear up courageously under a painful suspense, 
and in a manner to which a young girl might be unequal. 
Have you heard nothing since the morning ? Have you not 
seen Signor Turchi?” 

“ I spoke to Signor Turchi about an hour before ’Change,” 
said the old gentleman, more calmly. “ The good Turchi ! 
he seemed even more dejected than we. Within the last 
five days, he has lost so much flesh that one would scarcely 
recognize him. He does not give himself a moment’s re- 
pose. From morning until night he is running about from 
place to place, seeking Geronimo as though he were a be- 
loved brother.” 

“Truly,” said Mary, “his is a generous heart. Poor 
Simon ! I have sometimes been unjust to him ; but it is in 
affliction that we learn who are our true friends. For the 
rest of my life I will respect and esteem him.” 

“He will meet me here, presently,” replied Deodati. 
“ He may have some particular communication to make to 
me, for he seemed to desire a private conversation. The 
arrival of some merchants of his acquaintance prevented 
him from speaking to me. I almost quarrelled with Signor 
Turchi.” 

“Quarrelled!” said Mr. Van de Werve, in astonishment. 

“Yes ; but it was to his praise, at least. He told me that 


120 


THE AMULET. 


it was his intention to offer a large reward to the first person 
who would bring certain tidings of Geronimo.” 

“ How grateful I am for his generous friendship ! ” said 
Mary. 

“ Of course,” continued the old man, “ I would not permit 
it. Whilst thanking him for his kindness, I told him that 
I would offer the reward myself. I left Signor Turchi in 
company with the merchants, and went to the town-hall for 
the purpose ; but when I arrived there, I found a decree of 
the burgomaster already issued, promising three hundred 
florins for any information of Geronimo.* I spoke with the 
bailiff at noon. He told me that, notwithstanding the most 
active search, no trace had yet been discovered of Buf- 
ferio’s wife, nor of his companions. All of them must have 
left the country immediately after the .ruffian’s death. But 
this afternoon the bailiff expects to hear the result of several 
important researches ordered by him this morning. If he 
receives any communication of consequence he will come 
himself to impart it to us. I hear the clock strike five. 
Signor Turchi will soon be here.” 

During this explanation Mary remained immovable — 
her eyes cast down. She had probably heard only con- 
fusedly what had just been said, for her thoughts were evi- 
dently far away. 

It was only when the servant threw open the door and 

“ Order and Proclamation of Messire Van Schoonhoven, bailiff, and 
of the Burgomaster, Comtables, and Council of the city of Antwerp : 

“ It having come to the knowledge of the bailifi', burgomaster, and con- 
stables of this city that Geronimo Deodati, a merchant of Lucca, went 
out yesterday afternoon, about four o’clock, from his residence in this 
city, near the Convent of the Dominicans, and that he was seen for the last 
time beyond the Square of Meir, and since then he has not been heard 
of, and we know not what has become of him, so that there is great sus- 
picion that the said Geronimo has been maltreated, or even put to death ; 
therefore, the magistrates of the same city do proclaim that he who first 
will give information as to what has become of the said Geronimo, will 
receive the sum of three hundred Qorins.” — Extract from the “ Book of 
Laws of the City of Antwerp^ 


THE AMULET. 


121 


announced Signor Tiirchi that the young girl, aroused from 
her reverie, rose hastily and went eagerly to meet him, as 
though she expected him to be the bearer of important news. 

Mr. Van de Werve and Deodati also met him at the door; 
Mary involuntarily took both his hands in hers, and all 
three regarded him inquiringly. 

“ Alas ! my friends, I know nothing,’’ said Turchi, in a 
voice which seemed but the echo of a bruised and broken 
heart. “All my efforts have proved unsuccessful. I have 
vowed before God to spare no expense or trouble in order 
to discover what has become of my unfortunate friend ; but 
so far impenetrable darkness covers the terrible secret. 
What shall we do ? Let us hope that the bailiff and his 
officers may be more fortunate than myself, who have only 
my anxiety and affection to guide me.” 

The words of Simon Turchi effaced the last lingering 
hope from Mary’s heart, and she seated herself, exhausted 
from previous emotion. 

Turchi drew a chair beside her, regarded her with an ex- 
pression of profound compassion, and said : 

“ My poor Mary, your affliction is intense ! I know by 
my own sorrow how your loving heart is suffering from this 
terrible suspense ! ” 

The young girl lifted her eyes to his face, and she saw the 
tears running down his cheeks. Then she began to weep 
bitterly, and sobbing, she said : 

“ Thanks, thanks, Simon ! I will beg Almighty God to 
recompense your affection and generosity.” 

Simon’s countenance at this moment presented a singular 
appearance, from the remarkable contrast between the pallor 
of his cheeks and the deep scarlet which marked the margin 
of the scar on his face. The hypocrite could shed tears at 
pleasure and assume an expression of extreme sorrow, but 
the scar was not submissive to his will, and in spite of him 
its deepening red betrayed the wicked joy of his heart at the 
gentle and affectionate words of the young girl. 

11 


122 


THE AMULET. 


These words encouraged him to hope that he might fully 
attain the prize for which he strove. He had, it is true, 
taken from his murdered friend the proof of the debt of ten 
thousand crowns ; true he had, as he supposed, buried all 
evidence of his crime in the subterranean vault; but this 
did not satisfy him. In order to feel that he had received 
the price of the frightful assassination, in order to remain 
rich, powerful, and honored, he required the hand of the 
beautiful Mary Van de Werve. He well knew that a long 
time must elapse before the consummation of his hopes; 
still, from the very day that he had committed the murder, 
he commenced to lay his schemes, weigh his words, and so 
direct his plans that sooner or later he would certainly take 
Geronimo’s place in Mary’s heart. He felt secure of the 
consent of the young girl’s father. It was on this account 
that he feigned excessive sorrow, and gazed upon Mary with 
tearful eyes, as though the sight of her grief pierced him to 
the heart. 

He took Mary’s hands in his, and said : 

“ Do not yield to despair, Mary ; all hope is not lost. Last 
night a thought — a strange thought — occurred to my mind. 
And if I be correct, there are still well-founded reasons for 
expecting Geronimo’s return.” 

“Speak, Simon,” said Mary, anxiously. “Tell us this 
thought.” 

Signor Turchi cast down his eyes in feigned embarrass- 
ment. 

“ Impossible, Mary ; it is a secret which I have no right 
to divulge.” 

“Alas! is even this consolation refused me?” she ex- 
claimed, despairingly. 

“ This is qnkind, Simon,” said Mr. Van de Werve. “ Why 
do you cheer us up and awaken our curiosity only to cast us 
down by your gilence ? Give no names ; but at least give 
us some idea of the reasons we have for hope.” 

Simon Turchi shrugged his shoulders. 


THE AMULET. 


123 


“Ah, signor,” said Deodati, reproachfully, “you are un- 
generous. This morning before ’Change you were about to 
confide the secret to me, when you were interrupted by the 
approach of friends. Tell it to me now.” 

Simon glanced expressively at Mary, as if to convey the 
idea that her presence prevented him from complying with 
the old man’s request. 

“Mary,” said Mr. Van de Werve, “I beg you to go to 
your room. These varying emotions are more than you can 
bear ; if I learn anything of interest, I will, my child, com- 
municate it to you at once.” 

The young girl rose without reply, but she glanced re- 
proachfully at Simon Turchi. 

“ Do not blame me, Mary,” he said ; “ I am deeply grieved 
to cause you pain ; only rest assured that what I do is caused 
by affection for Geronimo and yourself.” 

Without noticing this excuse the young girl obeyed her 
father, and slowly left the room. 

“ Now,” said Mr. Van de Werve, “what is the secret you 
wish to impart to us ? ” 

“ I am greatly embarrassed,” replied Simon Turchi, shak- 
ing his head doubtfully; “my intention. was to speak only 
to Signor Deodati of the affair ; perhaps it would be indis- 
creet in me to reveal to you also, Mr. Van de Werve, a 
secret which, under different circumstances — ” 

“ For the love of God, abandon these useless evasions ! ” 
said Signor Deodati, roused to a high pitch of excitement 
by his impatience. “Why should not Mr. Van de Werve 
know that which, in your opinion, would give us a clue to 
my nephew ? ” 

“ Since I am forced to speak,” said Turchi, with a sigh, 
“ approach and listen.” 

As soon as Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve had drawn 
their chairs nearer to him, Simon said in an undertone, as 
if he feared his words might be overheard : 

“Have you not remarked, Mr. Van de Werve, that for 


124 


THE AMULET. 


some time past Geronimo has been disturbed and anxious ; 
that even in the midst of cheerful conversation he appeared 
absent-minded ; in a word, that some great trouble seemed 
weighing upon him ? ” 

“ I have noticed it,” said Mr. Van de Werve. 

“ And you. Signor Deodati ? ” 

“ I have also remarked it. But what do you infer from 
this?” , 

“ About a month ago I interrogated Geronimo as to the 
cause of his melancholy, and he informed me in confused, 
vague terms, that he had lost a considerable sum at play.” 

“At play!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, overpowered 
by astonishment. ^ 

“Was Geronimo a gambler?” exclaimed Deodati, with 
ill-suppressed indignation. 

“ It is the custom at Antwerp to play for money, and often 
for considerable sums of money,” continued Simon Turchi. 
“ I never remarked that my friend Geronimo had a passion 
for play. However that may be, I could never discover to 
whom he had lost the amount, nor would he tell me how 
much it was. His melancholy and agitation were caused 
by the circumstance. I have just mentioned. He was tortured 
by the certainty that his uncle would discover, upon exami- 
nation, the loss of a large amount, which was not accounted 
for on the books. I proposed to advance him the deficit, 
but he absolutely refused, because he preferred to meet his 
uncle’s just anger rather than deceive him.” 

This revelation was stunning to the old Deodati. Noth- 
ing could have more keenly wounded the honorable, high- 
toned nobleman than the thought that Geronimo had been 
so dishonest and ungrateful as to use the funds of the estab- 
lishment in gambling. 

Trembling with emotion, he asked : 

“ You say the sum is considerable. What is the amount? ” 

“ I have no idea, signor. Perhaps you might discover it 
by an examination of the books.” 


THE AMULET. 


125 


There was a short silence. Mr. Van de Werve’s eyes 
were fixed upon the ground. Signor Deodati passed his 
hand across his brow, and was absorbed in painful thoughts. 

Simon watched for a few moments, with an inquisitive 
eye, the effect of this revelation upon his two companions, 
trying to penetrate their very souls. Then he said to 
Deodati : 

“You look on the bad side of the affair, signor. If there 
were not a brighter, reverse side, I would have considered 
the confidence of my friend sacred, and guarded his secret 
until death. Up to this time we all feared, nay, considered 
it certain, that Geronimo had fallen under the assassin’s 
steel. Now I begin to think that, in order to escape his 
uncle’s anger, he has left the city and country.” 

“Impossible!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve. 

“Impossible?” repeated Turchi, “he would have gone ere 
this, had I not persuaded him that he would obtain his uncle’s 
pardon. Even on the day of your arrival. Signor Deodati, 
when Geronimo met me in the dock-yard on the bank of 
the Scheldt, he begged me to inquire for an English vessel 
which would leave on that or the next day, and secretly to 
engage his passage on board. You may well know that I 
combated this foolish project, and I left him only when he 
promised me to abandon the idea.” 

“Could he so lightly sacrifice my daughter’s love?” said 
Mr. Van de Werve. “ Were his expressions of affection for 
her only hypocrisy? No, no; nothing can induce me to 
believe that.” 

“ His love was real,” replied Turchi, “and its very depth, 
perhaps, blinded his judgment. He thought that the dis- 
covery of his losses at the gaming-table would inevitably 
deprive him of all hope of Mary’s hand. My poor friend ! 
he wished to fly from the fate which threatened him, that 
he might not witness the affliction of his beloved uncle.” 

No one replied to Simon’s remarks, and he said, with 
hypocritical surprise : 

11 * 


126 


THE AMULET. 


“How sad you both are! You should rather rejoice at 
my revelation. Is it not a happiness to think that Geronimo, 
although guilty of a fault, is still alive, and not to be forced 
to believe that he is forever lost to our affection by a fright- 
ful death?” 

Old Deodati arose and said : 

“ My friends, I must leave you ; my mind is troubled ; I 
am ill. Besides, I wish to discover by the books the truth 
or falsity of Signor Turchi’s statement. Do not attempt to 
detain me, I beg you. Adieu ! May God guard you ! ” 

Simon Turchi prepared to accompany the old man ; but 
whilst they were speaking together the bailiff, Messire John 
Van Schoonhoven, suddenly entered, and without the for- 
mality of a salutation, he exclaimed : 

“ Gentlemen, I have news 1 ” 

Turchi trembled and turned pale ; but as the unexpected 
announcement of the bailiff had startled the others, his emo- 
tion was not attributed to terror. 

“ For the love of God be calm, gentlemen, and do not an- 
ticipate too much. I do not know what has become of the 
unfortunate Geronimo, but I have just cause to hope that 
we will soon find him — at least we have a clue. I have 
learned, beyond doubt, that on the day of his disappear- 
ance, about five o’clock in the evening, he was seen beyond 
the Square of Meir. A monk from the Dominican Convent, 
who knows him well, saluted him and noticed the direction 
he went. Acting upon this information, one of my most in- 
telligent subordinates has been tracing him. A banker saw 
him pass through the quarter of the Jews. This is all I 
know at present, but these facts are sufficient to determine 
the direction of our researches, and may perhaps lead to a 
fortunate issue. By early dawn to-morrow I will collect all 
the agents at my disposal; I will divide them into small 
bands, and I will order them to search every house, cellar, 
and garden in a certain part of the city, and that in the 
most thorough manner, without leaving a spot unexain- 


THE AMULET. 127 

ined.* I myself will superintend the work, and will visit in 
person each band of workmen to see that my commands are 
properly executed.” 

Simon Turchi had covered his face with his hands, in order 
to conceal his terror. 

Surprised by his emotion, the bailiff said : 

“What have I said. Signor Turchi, to excite so much 
feeling ? ” 

“ Ah, you know not how much suffering you cause me,” 
replied Simon. “ I thought I was about to learn from your 
lips that my friend was safe, and what do you promise me 
if your search proves successful ? Only his dead body ! ” 

“ It is true,” said the bailiff. “ It is no use to deceive 
you. My opinion is that he has been assassinated in some 
by-street near the hospital grounds, or in one of the dark 
alleys between the parishes of Saint George and Saint Andrew. 
But I am determined to discover the truth. Dead or alive, 
I will find him, even if it be necessary to tear up the pave- 
ments of all the cellars, and dig up all the gardens to the 
depth of ten feet. The whole city is in a state of excite- 
ment; the people complain of the authorities of Antwerp 
as though we were accomplices in the crime. This affair 
shall be brought to light, I pledge my honor and my name.” 

“ I thank you for your zeal and solicitude,” stammered 
Turchi. “ May God direct your steps ! How we will all 
bless you, if you restore Geronimo alive to us.” f 

“ I have little hope, little hope, signor ; but all things are 
possible,” said the bailiff, shaking his head. 

Deodati took his hand, and said : 

“ Messire Van Schoonhoven, I am most grateful to you. 

* “ The bailiff said that the magistrates had determined to search all 
the stables, cellars, and gardens, to discover whether the ground in any 
of these places had been recently dug.” — E. Van Meteren, History of 
the Low Countries. 

f “ Simon Turchi was known to be a perverse and immoral man ; in a 
word, he was a compound of every vice and every evil inclination.” — 
Matteo Bandello. 


128 


THE AMULET. 


Excuse me for the remaining longer in your honorable com- 
pany ; but I am indisposed, and I must return home. May 
God protect you, signor.” 

“And are you going also. Signor Turchi?” asked the 


bailiff. 


When Simon gave him to understand, by a glance of the 
eye, that he could not let the old man go alone, he took his 
hand affectionately, and said : 

“ I understand, signor ; you are right. Adieu, until to- 
morrow.” 

Turchi offered his arm to Deodati, and supported his 
tottering steps. They took leave of Mr. Van de Werve, 
who accompanied them to the door, and admiring Simon 
Turchi’s kindness, he followed them with his eyes as long 
as they were in sight. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


SIMON TURCHI TRIES TO CONCEAL HIS CRIME, 
ETER having accompanied Deodati to his residence. 



Simon Turchi went to his own dwelling near the bridge 
De la Vigne. 

He was greatly excited, either by extreme anxiety or by a 
feverish impatience ; for he descended to the ground-floor, 
entered his office, pretended to be looking for some papers, 
went up stairs again, paced the room, opened the window, 
looked up and down the street, closed the window petulantly, 
and at last, stamping his foot, he angrily exclaimed : 

“ The miserable gamester ! he is in some tavern drinking, 
gambling, amusing himself, while I am here on burning 
coals, almost overpowered by anxiety and terror! Julio, 


THE AMULET, 


129 


Julio, if I escape tlie fate which now threatens me, I will 
have my revenge for your ingratitude ! ” 

Again he went to the window, and again he was disap- 
pointed. Thoroughly discouraged, he threw himself upon a 
chair, heaved a heavy sigh, and after a moment’s silence ex- 
claimed in accents of despair : 

“ Alas ! alas ! is it then true that my crime cannot remain 
concealed ? Who was it, to my great misfortune, who sent 
the Dominican brother just to the spot to meet Geronimo, 
and thus furnished the bailiff with a clue to the murder ? 
Who put the Jewish banker on his track, so that the con- 
stables might be led to my garden? Who suggested the 
idea to the bailiff to search the cellars? Was it chance? 
But chance is blind, and does not proceed with such pre- 
cision to the fulfilment of a purpose. How frightful if God 
himself conducted justice! if the Supreme Judge, who cannot 
be deceived, has condemned me to an infamous death I How 
vain then all hope, all effort to escape 1 ” 

Overpowered by these reflections, Simon Turchi bowed . 
his head upon his breast ; his hands worked convulsively, 
and at intervals heart-rending sighs escaped him. 

Confusedly arose before him a horrible vision : he saw the 
scaffold erected; he beheld the sword of the executioner 
glitter in the sunlight ; he heard the shouts of the populace 
calling down the vengeance of heaven upon his guilty 
head and devoting his name to eternal infamy ; he seemed 
to feel the mysterious stroke from the uplifted blade, for 
his frame shook violently, and he uttered a piercing cry of 
anguish. 

He thrust his hand into his doublet, and drew from it 
slowly a small phial half filled with a yellow liquid, and 
held it before him with a shudder of disgust and horrorT 
“Poison, deadly poison!” he muttered. “He who has 
the courage to take a few drops will sleep a sweet sleep 
from which there is no awakening. And is this my only 
refuge from the ignominy of the scaffold ? Instead of wealth 

I 


130 


THE AMULET. 


and happiness, is a miserable death to be the price of my 
crime? No, no ; I must chase away these horrible thoughts.’^ 

He replaced the phial in his doublet, and abandoned him- 
self again to his dark reflections ; but at last he conquered, 
in a measure, his dejection, and he said, less despairingly 
but still sorrowfully : 

“ And yet everything was going on so smoothly ! I had 
recovered my note; the possession of the ten thousand 
crowns enabled me to conceal for the present the ruined 
condition of my affairs ; Mary did not appear indifferent to 
me, and Geronimo being out of the way, I was certain of 
succeeding with her in the course of time. I would in that 
case become rich and powerful ; her dowry would be suffi- 
cient to save me from poverty and a humiliating discovery. 
Alas ! why do the people accuse the magistrates of want of 
zeal ? Things more surprising than the disappearance of 
Geronimo have happened lately without any disturbance 
among the populace. It was the public feeling that forced 
.the bailiff to make extraordinary efforts to discover what 
had become of him ; it will be the cause of my destruction ! 
Can there be a mysterious impulse to this unwonted excite- 
ment of the multitude? Vainly then would I struggle to 
escape! Would it not be God himself pursuing me?” 

The recurrence of this thought struck terror to the soul 
of Simon Turchi, and he buried his head in his hands. 
Suddenly he started up, and although his lips twitched con- 
vulsively, he said, in a firm, strong voice : 

“ Ah ! ah I fatality is a spur which inspires the most cow- 
ardly with courage. Avaunt, foolish fears I I must struggle 
on to the end. The bailiff seeks a corpse ; he pledges his 
honor to discover one. Let him find it I Suppose he should 
find it elsewhere than in my summer-house ? in a sewer, for 
example ? Ah I anxiety had clouded my mind ! Still, still, 
I have means for triumph! Oh, if Julio would come! 
Could I only imagine in what tavern the rascal is gambling, 
I would send Bernardo for him.” 


THE AMULET. 131 

Saying these words, he approached the window and looked 
out. 

“ There comes the loiterer ! He walks as composedly as 
if nothing weighed upon his conscience ! He cares not for 
the preservation of my honor and my life ; since the death 
of Geronimo he hates and despises me. I must appear angry 
and indignant, for should he suspect the fear and anxiety 
torturing my soul, he would be insolent, and perhaps would 
laugh at my anguish.” 

As Julio approached the house, Simon attracted his at- 
tention by loud talking, and having succeeded in this, he 
made signs of his impatience and anger until Julio reached 
the door. He then closed the window, and assuming an ex- 
pression of rage he turned to meet his servant. 

When Julio on entering saw his master standing with 
folded arms and menacing countenance, a slight and ironical 
smile flitted across his face. 

“Wretch!” exclaimed Simon, “did I not order you to 
await me here after Change ? Look well to yourself, or I 
will avenge myself by your blood. You laugh ! beware, or 
I will crush you like a worm I ” 

“Come, come, signor, why give way to such useless anger? 
It is not long since Change. It is not my fault that you 
have been obliged to wait.” 

“ Have you not been going from tavern to tavern, gam- 
bling, as you have been doing the last five days?” 

“Yes, truly. I was intolerably thirsty ; but if I was not 
here in time, you must blame the clock of Notre Dame ; it 
could not have struck right, I am sure. So be calm, signor; 
you know that your anger makes no impression on me. 
Make haste and tell me what you want me to do. We lose 
precious time in this nonsensical sort of talk. I left some 
friends to come and receive your orders, and I must add 
that I intend returning to them as soon as I have fulfilled 
your commands. You need not shake your fist at me, nor 
get into a passion ; it will do no good,’* 


132 


THE AMULET. 


The disrespectful language of his servant wounded and pro- 
voked Turchi ; but perhaps seeing how useless it was to give 
expression to his feelings, he suddenly changed his manner. 
Tears filled his eyes ; grief was depicted upon his counte- 
nance, and seating himself, he sighed and said : 

“Forgive me, Julio, for my harsh words; they were 
spoken in impatience. It is too early yet for you to do 
what I wish, and I was wrong to complain of your long 
absence.” 

The servant, surprised at his master’s humble language, 
regarded him distrustfully. 

“Is there any danger?” he demanded. 

Turchi took his hand, and said, piteously : 

“Alas! Julio, my friend, to-morrow, in all probability, 
we will be cast, manacled, into a dungeon, there to await an 
infamous death.” 

“ Is it not your own fear, signor, which inspires such a 
thought?” asked Julio, trembling. 

“ No ; I have heard a terrible piece of news. Geronimo 
was seen in the Quarter of the Jews, and he was met going 
towards the Hospital Grounds. The bailiff has determined 
to search to-morrow morning all the cellars in that vicinity, 
and even to dig the ground on the spot where my garden 
lies. The police agents are to proceed at daybreak to the 
Hospital meadows, and as they cannot fail to remark that 
the earth has been newly turned up, they will certainly dis- 
cover what they seek. You pushed Geronimo into the arm- 
chair ; you buried his body ; consequently you will accom- 
pany me to the scaffold, unless, in your capacity of servant, 
they may choose to hang you or break you on the wheel. 
O Julio ! does not this information awaken you to a sense 
of our perilous condition ? ” 

“ From whom did you learn all that?” asked the affrighted 
servant. 

“ From the bailiff himself.” 

“ From his own lips ? ” 


THE AMULET. 


133 


“Yes, my friend, from his own lips. In spite of your 
courage and coolness, I think I may say that you have no 
stronger desire than myself to die by the hand of the execu- 
tioner.” 

Julio put his hand to his throat and said, dejectedly : 

“ The affair looks serious. I seem to be strangling ; I feel 
the rope around my neck. It is all your fault, signor. Why 
did you murder your best friend ? Did I not warn you that 
so frightful a crime would come to light ? ” 

“Call it crime, if you will; but at least my just ven- 
geance is satisfied, and now neither complaints nor recrimi- 
nations can recall the past nor shelter us from danger.” 

“But, signor, what can we do to escape punishment?” 

“ There is a means, easy and certain. There is a means ; 
but, Julio, it requires good will and resolution. May I rely 
upon you for this last effort?” 

“ What would not one be willing to do in order to escape 
the gallows or the wheel ? ” 

“ Then listen to me. I told you that the bailiff would 
search the cellars. If he finds the corpse in my house, we 
are both ruined.” 

“ Certainly, signor.” 

“ But suppose it be found in another place, far from this 
spot, who would suspect us of the murder ? ” 

“An excellent thought!” exclaimed Julio, joyfully. 
“We must carry the dead body to a distant street and leave 
it there.” 

“ Not so. They would naturally suppose that it had been 
removed to that spot from some other place. A better plan 
is to throw it into the sewer in the Vleminck Field. The 
officers of justice will then conclude that Geronimo fell under 
the hand of some unknown assassin.” 

“That is still better! Ah! signor, you frightened me 
without cause. I place very little value on my life, and 
yet the thought of a certain death shatters my nerves. Now 
12 


134 


THE AMULET. 


I am myself again. But how shall we manage to transport 
Geronimo’s body to the Vleminck Field ? ” 

“ It was for that purpose, Julio, that I was waiting so im- 
patiently for you,” said Simon Turchi ; “ it was because I 
needed your aid to execute a project which will save us 
both. Nothing is easier. You will disinter the body, and 
you will throw it into the sewer.” * 

“Alone?” said the servant, in a tone which prognosticated 
a refusal. 

“ Why not alone, since you are able to do it ? ” 

“ It is very easy, signor, for you to say : ‘ Take the body on 
your shoulders and traverse three or four streets.’ Signor 
Geronimo is heavier than you suppose, and I doubt if by 
the exertion of all my strength I could carry it twenty 
steps.” 

Simon Turchi took his servant’s two hands in his, and 
said, supplicatingly : 

“ Julio, my friend, be generous ; it is not a difficult task 
for one like yourself. Beflect that it is our only means of 
safety; it is as much for your interest as mine. I will 
recompense you largely, and I will be grateful to you all 
my life.” 

“ Well, signor, if you say so, I will try it ; but I am afraid 
it will turn out badly. I shall be obliged to rest on the 
way, and that will take more time than will be prudent. 
And then how shall I be able each time to replace the body 
on my shoulders ? It requires two to transport it with suffi- 
cient rapidity.” 

“ Two ? ” said Turchi, “ You know well that we can confide 
our secret to no one.” 

“ To escape death, one would submit to anything. Sup- 
pose you help me yourself, signor ? ” 

“ I ! ” replied Turchi, shuddering, “ I carry a dead body 

* “ Go and do what I have commanded you. Disinter the body, take 
it on your shoulders and cast it into the sewer which is in the square 
where the three streets meet.” — Simon Turchi — Matteo Bandello. 


THE AMULET. 135 

through the streets ! I, a nobleman ! No, no ; better a 
dungeon and death ! ” 

“ What a strange sentiment of honor ! ” muttered the as- 
tonished servant. “Would to God, signor, that you had 
sooner remembered that you were a nobleman, we would 
not thus be seeking, in mortal anguish, the means to save 
our lives. Consider the afiair as you will, you must confess 
that if I carry the corpse alone, ten chances to one we shall 
be discovered.” 

While the servant thus spoke, Turchi seemed preoccupied 
by torturing thoughts. After a moment he said, with a sigh : 

“ Alas ! there is no other means ; it is dangerous, but ne- 
cessity demands it. Julio, go to the summer-house, and I 
will send Bernardo this evening to help you.” 

“What” said Julio, ironically, “will you reveal your 
secret?” 

“ No ; I will command him, under penalty of his life, to 
do whatever you order him; threaten to stab him at the 
least show of resistance, and he will obey you.” 

“ Impossible ! Signor Bernardo is a good, pious man. He 
would inform upon us. I might as well put the halter 
around my neck. I will have none of his aid.” 

Simon Turchi, in despair at the failure of all his efforts 
to succeed in his design, paced the floor impatiently. Sud- 
denly he stopped before his servant, and with sparkling eyes 
he said, in a suppressed voice : 

“Julio, there must be an end to all this hesitation. We 
have no choice, and whatever may be the means, we must 
not deliberate in presence of the death which menaces us. 
Stab Bernardo, and throw him into the sewer above the 
body of Geronimo.” * 

* “ I will send Bernardo to help you, and I will order him to obey 
you, whatever you may command. When you have thrown the body 
into the sewer, you can, by a quick movement, push Bernardo in also. 
The sewer is deep, and whoever falls into it is immediately drowned.” — 
Matteo Bandello. 


136 


THE AMULET. 


“ Oh, signor, murder Bernardo ! ” exclaimed Julio, in 
horror. “And do you suppose that he would not defend 
himself? that he would not give the alarm? In that case, 
your servant would be recognized, and thus they would put 
them on the track of the criminals. Your mind wanders.” 

Grinding his teeth in his agony, Turchi tossed his arms 
convulsively, and at last said, hoarsely : 

“You will not undertake it alone? You have not the 
wish to succeed. Coward that you are, for what are you fit 
but to boast and drink and gamble in the taverns? Would 
that I had never seen you ! Leave the corpse in the cellar ; 
let the bailiff* discover it there ; we will see which of us will 
meet the more courageously an infamous death ! ” 

A prey to the keenest emotion, he fell back in his chair, 
and while uttering bitter invectives against his servant, he 
tore his hair in real or feigned despair. 

The sight of his master’s desolation seemed to make some 
impression upon Julio; he regarded him compassionately, 
and at last said, kindly : 

“ Come, signor, calm yourself. All is not lost, and if my 
good-will can save you, I will show you that Julio has the 
courage and resolution to carry him through a difficult en- 
terprise. Since you think I am able to take the corpse alone 
to the sewer, I will attempt it. Perhaps I may overrate the 
difficulties. Be calm, and rely upon my word.” 

The signor knew that once having made up his mind, his 
servant would unhesitatingly execute what he had under- 
taken, and he comprehended by his manner that his promise 
was seriously made. He pressed his hand, and said, joy- 
fully : 

“Thanks, Julio, I owe to you my honor and my life. I 
will never forget it, and when once the sword, now hanging 
over my head, is removed, I will reward you magnificently. 
Go now to the country-house, disinter the body, and carry 
it up to the ground-fioor. This will give you less work 
later. Fill the grave thoroughly, and as far as possible 


THE AMULET. 


137 


destroy all appearance of the earth having been recently 
dug.” 

Julio apparently let his master’s words fall unheeded on 
his ear ; he suddenly struck his forehead with his fist, as if 
an unwelcome idea had forced itself upon him. 

“What is the matter?” asked Turchi, anxiously. 

“ Fool that I am ! ” exclaimed Julio. 

“ Speak lower,” said Simon. “ What troubles you ? ” 

“ Did you not notice, signor, how bright it was last night ? 
It is clear weather, and the moon is full ! How could I 
carry a dead body to the sewer with such light to betray 
me ? It is impossible ; I cannot think of it.” 

These words forced from Simon a cry of anguish. He 
seemed crushed under the fate which was visibly pursuing 
him. The cowardice and ill-will of his servant had not cast 
him into despair like this last obstacle ; for he well knew 
that either by threats or promises of reward he could over- 
come Julio’s resistance ; but what could prevent the moon 
from shining? It was clear that no way remained of re- 
moving Geronimo’s body from the cellar, and the officers of 
the law would infallibly discover where the murder had 
been committed. 

It was then true that for him there was no escape from 
ruin ; that a mysterious power opposed all his plans ; per- 
haps God himself was interposing to prevent him from saving 
his life. 

The supposition made him shudder ; nevertheless he tor- 
tured his mind to discover some plank of safety ; a thousand 
tumultuous thoughts presented themselves. Might they not 
bury the body in a retired spot of the garden, plunge it in 
the basin of the fountain, or conceal it under the stones of 
the grotto ? But none of these plans could be accomplished 
without leaving traces which would lead to certain dis- 
covery. 

Suddenly a happy idea seemed to occur to him, for his 
face brightened ; he arose and said : 

12 * 


138 


THE AMULET. 


“ Julio, you must leave the country ; it is your only means 
of safety.” 

“I leave the country!” said Julio; “and you, signor?” 

“Would that I could accompany you! but I cannot say 
as you can : ‘ Where my body is, there is all I have and all 
I care for.’ I must of necessity remain here ; I have many 
interests to detain me.” 

Julio was astonished by the advice. 

“Where shall I go? In Italy a price is set upon my 
head ; I dare not be seen beyond the mountains. It is too 
late for me to leave for England ; there are no vessels ready 
to sail. What could I do in Germany, ignorant of the lan- 
guage of the country and without means of subsistence ? ” 

“Save your life, Julio ; go to Germany,” said Turchi. “I 
will give you money, plenty of money.” 

The deep red of the scar on his master’s face, his expres- 
sion of cunning, his evident satisfaction, made Julio suspect 
some deception. He was unable at first to imagine his secret 
design ; but a light suddenly broke upon his mind, and re- 
coiling with horror and anger, he exclaimed : 

“ What an odious trap you are setting for me ! You in- 
tend to accuse me of the murder in my absence? And 
while poor Julio, charged with a double crime, finds no 
resting-spot upon earth, you will enjoy here in entire security, 
in the midst of wealth and honor, the price of the innocent 
blood which you have shed. No, no, I will bring no new 
anathema on my head.” 

“ You are silly, Julio,” said Simon Turchi, disdainfully. 
“ Should we be arrested to-morrow, and the truth known, 
would you not be equally punished for having treacherously 
pushed Geronimo into the chair?” 

“ Yes ; but all would know that I neither conceived the 
crime, nor profited by its commission.” 

“ A fine consolation, to contend on the scaffold ! ” said the 
signor ironically, repressing his impatience. “But I will 
speak to you plainly and without reserve. I will state my 


THE AMULET. 


139 


conditions ; if you refuse them, then all is at an end between 
us. Each of us is at liberty to save himself even at the 
sacrifice of the other. The worst part of the whole is that I 
might feel myself obliged, for my own security, to make 
known to the authorities of Lucca who you are.” 

The servant regarded his master with an expression of 
disgust and aversion. 

“These are my conditions,” said Simon. “You will leave 
immediately for Germany, and reach the Khine as soon as 
possible. I will give you two hundred crowns. Procure a 
carriage and horse at the very first village, and do not stop 
until you are in a place of safety. To prevent any detention 
on the way, I will give you a letter to Signor Mazzuchelli, a 
banker at Cologne. If on the journey you are asked why 
you have undertaken it, say that you are on urgent business 
for your master, and if necessity require it, show the letter ; 
but once in Cologne, do not present the letter to Mazzuchelli. 
Two hundred crowns ! that is a fortune, Julio. With that 
you can live luxuriously for two or three years. And what 
diflference will it make whether you know the language of 
the country or not. Money understands and speaks all lan- 
guages.” * 

“ And when the two hundred crowns are spent, what will 
become of me ? ” said the servant. 

“ I will not forsake you, Julio,” said Turchi. “ Whenever 
you need money, inform me of it, and I will send you enough 
to keep you from want. But you must change your name 
and simply notify me that you need money to continue your 
business. And your new name? It seems to me that 
‘ Marco Castagno ’ would answer. What say you ? ” 

Julio shook his head doubtfully, muttering between his 
teeth. Although the promise of two hundred crowns was 
seductive, he hesitated to accept his master’s proposition. 

“ Why deliberate so long ? ” said Simon. “ I oflhr you a 

♦ “Simon Turchi begged Julio to take the crime upon himself.” — Van 
Meteren, History of the Low Countries, 


140 


THE AMULET. ^ 


certain means of escaping the gallows, and you hesitate ! 
Moreover, I secure you a life of ease, independent, without 
cares, the free, joyous life of a lord, and yet you refuse.” 

Julio seemed to have come to a decision. 

“ Will you give me two hundred crowns ? ” he demanded. 

“ Two hundred crowns in coin.” 

“ Before my departure ? ” 

“ Immediately.” 

“ Give them to me. I am in a hurry to depart.” 

“ I will go for them,” said Turchi, leaving the room. 

Julio seated himself and rested his head upon his hands. 
But he had not long for reflection ; his master returned after 
a short absence. 

Simon Turchi held a purse in his hands. He went to the 
table and counted out four piles of gold pieces. 

The sight of so much money made an impression on Julio, 
and he approached the table. Joy sparkled in his eyes, and 
whilst he contemplated the shining pieces, he nodded his 
head with an air of satisfaction. 

“ You see,” said Simon, “ that the sum is correct, and you 
will not find the gold heavy to carry. Now put it in your 
doublet. Going down stairs I reflected upon your good- 
will, and I considered whether I might not avoid accusing 
you of the murder of Geronimo, and my friendship for you 
suggested a means. Now that I am sure of being able, under 
any circumstances, of exculpating myself, it is not necessary 
for me to bring any accusation against you. Besides, Julio, 
I dislike to be separated from you. If in two or three months 
I could bring you back without danger, I would be de- 
lighted.” 

“ I would be well pleased, signor,” said Julio, with a sigh. 

“ In order to secure this chance to ourselves, Julio, you 
must, before leaving, go to the country-house, level, as far 
as possible, the earth in the cellar, throw sand and dust upon 
the grave, and then fill the cellar with fire-wood and empty 
casks.” 


THE AMULET. 


141 


‘‘ But, signor, that would take time.” 

“ That is of no consequence. At this hour there are too 
many people passing through the city gates. It is better for 
you to pass the night at the pavilion, and to-morrow morn- 
ing, as soon as the gates are open, you will leave. At day- 
break you will be certain of meeting no one who would no- 
tice what direction you had taken. I suggest this for your 
own sake, Julio, not mine ; for suppose the officers of the law 
should search my summer-house, those precautions would 
divert their attentions from the cellar, while otherwise they 
would infallibly discover that the earth had been recently 
dug. Perhaps, through respect for me, the bailiff may 
exempt my lands from search. In either case I will wait 
until the impression made by the murder has worn away. I 
will say nothing of you, except that you left me in conse- 
quence of a sharp rebuke, and that I do not know what has 
become of you. As soon as the present excitement subsides 
and the search is abandoned, I promise to recall you. Now 
will you go to the pavilion and accomplish faithfully what 
I advise?” 

“ I will.” 

“ Do not forget your new name.” 

“ Marco Castagno ? It is easily remembered.” 

“ Yes ; Marco Castagno, and you are travelling on busi- 
ness. I had nearly forgotten the letter of recommendation. 
Wait here an instant; do not come down-stairs. I will write 
it at once.” 

When Julio was left alone he put his hand in his pocket, 
chinked the gold coins, and drew out a handful for the 
pleasure of contemplating them ; but he soon returned the 
money to his doublet, and fell into deep thought. 

“ If,” he muttered, “ I could only set off at once ! Here I 
am obliged to pass a whole night in that accursed pavilion ! 
The signor thinks that Geronimo has been buried for five 
days, and his corpse is still above ground. To fill up the 
grave is not much. Suppose I let that alone, and leave this 


142 


THE AMULET. . 


evening with the money ? No, no ; I will execute faithfully 
what I promised. My master is so generous to me, I will 
show him that I am not ungrateful.” 

“Here is the letter of recommendation,” said Simon 
Turchi, entering the room. “ It is in the name of Marco 
Castagno. Forget your other names, and be prudent, re- 
membering that the least indiscretion might cost our lives. 
Go to the pavilion, Julio. I bid you adieu, with the hope 
of soon seeing you again at Antwerp.” 

“Shall I not take my clothes, signor, or a travelling 
cloak?” 

“ No ; the cloak you have on will suffice. Were you seen 
with any baggage, your intention might be suspected. Ap- 
pear indifferent. You can buy whatever you ruay need.” 

The servant extended his hand to his master, and going to 
the door, said : 

“ Adieu, signor ; if you do not refuse to aid me when I 
am in want, I will keep your secret faithfully.” 

“ Do your work in the cellar carefully, Julio. I wish you 
a pleasant journey.” 

Julio descended the staircase and walked slowly down the 
street. 

His master opened the window and watched him until he 
was out of sight. 

Simon Turchi drew a long breath, as though the weight 
of a mountain had been removed from his heart. A smile 
lighted up his face, and he said in an accent of intense joy : 

“ He has gone ! Now I have nothing to fear. The bailiff 
may find the body ; Julio committed the crime ; I know 
nothing of it ; I am as innocent as a lamb. Ah ! I thought 
I was lost. Now I must arrange my plans as though I were 
certain of the discovery of the body. I feel new strength ; 
hope and certainty animate my heart. Mary, Mary, your 
name, your fortune,- your love will be mine. My life will 
yet be crowned with grandeur, wealth, and happiness.” 

And in feverish excitement he closed the window. 


THE AMULET. 


143 


CHAPTER IX. 

GEKONIMO KESUERECTED. 

T he clock in the steeple of Saint George struck seven, 
and night was coming on, when Julio opened the garden- 
gate of his master’s country-seat and walked with a light 
step towards the house. 

He kept one hand wrapped in his cloak, as if to conceal 
some object; the other was in his pocket, turniug over the 
gold pieces given him by Simon Turchi. Joy sparkled in 
his eyes, as he said to himself: 

“ God be praised ! I resisted the temptation. They urged 
me to drink and play at the ‘ Swan,’ but my gold coins re- 
minded me that I had a serious duty to perform. After 
work comes the recompense. What I hold in my hand will 
indemnify me for the thirst I have suffered and for the time 
lost. It is the very best Spanish wine — as dear as if it were 
melted silver, and as strong as if it were liquid fire.” 

On entering a room in the house, he drew two bottles from 
his doublet and one from under his cloak, placed them upon 
the table, and looked at them longingly. 

“ No, no, not now ; presently ! Business first. Your be- 
witching smile cannot seduce me. Patience, my friends ; an 
hour hence we will become acquainted. To fill up a grave 
and roll some empty casks into the cellar is a small matter. 
But it is getting so dark that I can no longer distinguish 
the image of the emperor on the gold pieces ; I must light 
the lamp.” 

Taking a wooden box from the mantelpiece, he drew out 
a flint and struck it. It was some time before the tinder 
took fire, and Julio laughed at his own failures ; but at last 
he succeeded in his efforts, and a large lamp made the whole 
room bright with its rays. 


144 


THE AMULET. 


Julio approached the table and said : 

“ Now at least I can gratify the desire which has irritated 
my nerves during the last hour. To possess two hundred 
crowns, to be as rich as a banker, to feel my pockets 
weighed down by gold, and still unable to feast my eyes on 
the treasure! Now I am alone; there is no one to ask 
whence it came. The time has arrived. I may enjoy my 
wealth without anxiety I ” 

He drew an arm-chair to the table, reclined in it comfort- 
ably, with extended limbs, and placed the gold coin by 
handfuls under the light of the lamp. - 

After searching his pocket and doublet and convincing 
himself that all the crowns were spread out before him, he 
heaped them up and ran his hands through them as if to enjoy 
the sparkle and jingle of the gold. He held his breath, for 
fear of losing the least sound ; with eyes wide open he con- 
templated the brilliant treasure. 

For a long time Julio remained, with a smile of happiness 
upon his lips, in mute admiration, and, perhaps scarcely 
aware of what he was doing, he ranged the crowns in a line 
and counted them ; then he separated them into piles of 
twenty pieces each ; then he tossed them from hand to hand, 
until, wearied of this amusement, he looked at them 
musingly. At last he exclaimed in a joyous outbreak : 

“Two hundred crowns! What will I do with them? 
How will I spend them ? Shall I drink Malmsey, Musca- 
tel, the very best, such as brings pleasure to the heart ? But 
at that rate I shall soon see the end of my money. Shall I 
play for florins and crowns ? That would be an excellent 
means, certainly, of either becoming a hundred times richer 
or of losing every farthing. Strange ! how fearful and ava- 
ricious money makes me ! I do not even care to play ; no, 
I will not do it. I will dress like a nobleman: in satin, 
velvet, and silk ; I will drink and eat of the most exquisite 
dishes ; I will live in luxury and abundance, as though the 
world were a terrestrial paradise. Ah, what a glorious life ! 


THE AMULET. 


145 


“ But what a cowardly wretch I am ! My only anxiety is 
to know how to spend or rather squander this treasure, and 
at this moment there lives, far from me, one who perhaps is 
stretching out her hand to me to beg an alms ! My poor 
mother! she may even need bread. Were she to curse her 
ungrateful son, would he not have deserved it a hundred 
times ? I am afraid of myself I With ten crowns, with the 
twentieth part of what I am going to throw away in dissipa- 
tion, she might be saved from misery for more than a year. 
Why did I not give twenty crowns to my master to send to 
her ? Suppose I return to the factory to execute this good 
thought? Impossible! Signor Turchi would be enraged; 
besides, I have no confidence in him. I will inquire, when 
in Germany, if she still lives, and if she be in want I will 
send her money.” 

He took up twenty crowns, one by one, from . the table, 
counted them, regarded them wistfully, and said, as he 
dropped them into his pocket : 

“ Twenty crowns ! that is a large sum ; but it may make 
my blind old mother happy. I will put her portion by 
itself.” 

His eye again rested on the glittering coin. The sight 
appeared to deject him. 

“ How visibly it has diminished ! ” he said, sighing. “ I 
believed my treasure inexhaustible, and by one thought the 
twentieth part has disappeared. Will it not go as fast in 
Germany? Will not gambling and drinking deprive me of 
the whole in a few months and leave me in misery ? What 
sombre thoughts ! A moment ago, and everything wore a 
smiling aspect ; now, my mind is tortured by fear and anx- 
iety. But why need I be troubled ? When I have spent the 
two hundred crowns. Signor Turchi will send me more. But 
it is not well to rely too much upon that ; his head may fall 
under the axe of the executioner. In that case I would be 
as badly off myself. The discovery would drive me from 
Germany into Netherlands or Italy. Instead of living in 
J3 ^ K 


146 


THE AMULET. 


luxury, I would infallibly fall into the lion’s jaw, and the 
gallows or the wheel would be my well-merited fate. But if 
the murderer of Geronimo be not discovered, I can return 
quietly, and my master would receive me kindly for fear I 
would betray his secret. That depends in a great measure 
upon my care in acquitting myself of the task entrusted tc 
me. ' I will accomplish it loyally and well. The sight of 
this gold no longer gives me pleasure. A full cup of wine 
first, and then to work bravely ! ” 

He uncorked one of the bottles and half emptied it ; then 
muttering a few words as to the strength and energy im- 
parted by the liquor, he took the lamp, and fixing his eye 
on the bottle, said : 

“ It will take me only a few minutes to throw the body 
into the grave and fill it up ; but the rest of the work will 
require more than an hour. That is a long time to be sepa- 
rated from you, is it not? To keep me company, I will take 
the half-empty bottle ; that will not hinder me from doing 
my duty properly ; on the contrary, it will give me courage 
and strength. Now to work ! ” 

He re-corked the bottle, put it inside of his doublet, took 
the lamp, and slowly descended the staircase. 

The passage leading to the cellar in which Julio had 
thrown Geronimo’s body was rather long, and he had time 
to feeh the effect of the wine, and it so raised his spirits that 
he commenced jesting about his past anxiety, and on nearing 
the cellar he sang the first notes of a joyful song. 

But the words expired upon his lips, he trembled in every 
limb, and turned ashy pale. 

A voice answered him from the cellar. 

Immovable from terror, Julio fixed his eyes upon the 
door, and strove to comprehend the words which fell indis- 
tinctly upon his ear. 

“ Heavens ! ” he exclaimed, “ it is Geronimo ; he lives ! ” 

Shuddering, he withdrew a short distance down the pas- 
sage, and was for a time as motionless as a statue. At last, 
with deep emotion, he said : 


THE AMULET. 


147 


“ What can this mean ? The signor said at the first thrust 
his dagger met metal, but that the wound in his neck was 
deep. Suppose it were merely a flesh-wound ? What shall 
I do ? Shall I let him live ? ” 

He was painfully undecided. 

“ Impossible ! ” he said. “ It 'would be the death-warrant 
of both my master and myself. I must choose between his 
death and ours. Implacable fatality urges me on — in truth, 
I have no choice. One blow, and all is over ! I must not 
hesitate ; my knife is sharp.” 

He drew his dagger from its scabbard, examined the blade, 
tried it with his finger. He shuddered, and a cry of horror 
escaped him. 

“ Fatal position ! ” he exclaimed. “ To kill a man in cold 
blood ! an innocent man ! What harm has poor Geronimo 
ever done me? Stab him ! My heart fails me — I cannot 
perpetrate such a cruelty. And yet, and yet I must I The 
crime horrifies me, but I have no alternative. Only by the 
sacrifice of his life can my master escape the scaffold, and I 
the gallows. Fate irresistibly pursues me ; I am the slave 
of necessity — I must follow whither it leads 1 ” 

With staggering step and in a blind frenzy, Julio ran 
down the passage, caught his dagger between his teeth, put 
the key in the lock, and turned the light so that it might 
fall upon his victim. 

He stopped trembling in the middle of the cellar, and 
pity filled his soul as his eye rested on Geronimo. He had 
indeed drawn his dagger to complete the horrible crime; 
but now, touched and moved by compassion, he considered 
the unfortunate young man, who extended to him his sup- 
pliant hands and begged for help. 

Geronimo was kneeling on the side of the grave which 
had been dug to receive his corpse. His face was partly 
covered with clotted blood ; the portion visible was exces- 
sively pale, and his cheeks were so sunken that those few 
days of suffering had left only the skin to cover his bones. 


148 


THE AMULET. 


His eyes, rolling wildly, were sunk in their sockets ; his neck, 
weakened by the wound, could not support his head, which 
fell upon his right shoulder. His clothes were blood-stained 
and covered with dirt. It was evident that in his struggle 
against death he had dragged himself around the tomb to 
try, if possible, to escape it. 

“Whoever you may be,” cried out Geronimo, “for the 
love of God, one drop of water ! ” 

His voice was weak, but capable of moving the hardest 
heart. 

Julio shook his head, without speaking. 

“ Water ! water ! ” repeated the young man. “ I am burn- 
ing up, consumed by thirst. Water! water! one drop of 
water ! Save me from a frightful death ! ” 

Moved by pity and forgetting, as it were, his own situa- 
tion, Julio thrust his hand under his doublet, drew out the 
bottle, uncorked it, and without speaking gave it to the 
wounded gentleman. He uttered a cry of joy, seized the 
bottle with feverish energy, and kissed with transport the 
hand which presented him the saving beverage. 

Julio, with palpitating heart, watched the unfortunate 
Geronimo, as with trembling joy he placed the bottle to his 
lips, as if the contents were imparting to him a new life. 

And indeed, after having quaffed a deep draught, Gero- 
nimo appeared to have new strength ; for a sweet smile ap- 
peared upon his face, his eyes sparkled with gratitude, and 
lifting his hands to Julio, he said : 

“ May God bless you ! you have saved me fron\ a fright- 
ful death. May Heaven hear my prayer and reward you 
on the day of judgment for all the good I may have done 
in my life. The light blinded me ; I could not see. Are 
you not Julio?” 

This recognition struck Geronimo with terror, and in a 
feeble and discouraged voice he said : 

“Julio, Julio, you pushed me into the chair!” 

Then seeing the dagger in Julio’s hands, he shuddered. 


THE AMULET. 


149 


“A dagger in your hand ! Ah ! you come to kill me?” 

“Yes, signor,” replied Julio, sadly, “I come to take your 
life ; but do not suppose I fulfil this fatal mission without 
emotion ; on the contrary, my heart bleeds for you, and I 
feel an indescribable repugnance to deal the fatal blow.” 

“Ah ! you are not merciless ; you will have pity on me,” 
said Geronimo. 

“ Impossible ! ” replied Julio. “ Fatality governs us both ; 
it has irrevocably condemned you to death, and me to in- 
humanity. All prayer, all supplication is useless ; nothing 
can save your life. I beg you, signor, not to increase the 
difiiculties of my task ; accept with resignation a fate you 
cannot escape.” 

A sharp cry escaped Geronimo, as these unfeeling words 
convinced him that all hope was lost. 

“My God!” he exclaimed, “is it then true that this 
dungeon is to become my tomb ? Must I die without con- 
fession ? Shall my body lie in unconsecrated ground ? Oh, 
mercy! mercy!” 

“ Necessity is a merciless law, signor,” replied Julio, “ and 
I have more cause than you to complain of its harshness. 
You, at least, will receive in heaven the recompense of your 
innocent life, while I must commit here a crime from which 
I recoil with horror, but which is forced upon me by an irre- 
sistible power, and for which my poor saul will stand ac- 
cused before the judgment-seat of God. But do not cherish 
a deceitful hope ; there is no hope for you. Before I depart 
from here, that grave must receive your body. That I did 
not immediately on entering fulfil my sad mission is partly 
owing to the fact that an uncontrollable compassion par- 
alyzed my arm, but still more, to my desire to afibrd you 
time to say some prayers. Therefore prepare your soul for 
its last passage. I will wait patiently even for a quarter of 
an hour. Pray with a tranquil mind — I will not strike 
without giving notice.” 

Saying these words, Julio put down the lamp, replaced his 
13 * 


150 


THE AMULET. 


dagger in its scabbard, and seated himself on a block of 
wood which was in a corner of the cellar. 

Gferonimo, overwhelmed by Julio’s insensibility, bowed 
his head upon his breast. For some time he neither spoke 
nor moved, seeming to accept his fate with complete resigna- 
tion. But the terror of death again possessed him. 

“Impossible!” he exclaimed. “You will not kill me, 
Julio ? I conjure you, by your soul’s salvation, not to imbrue 
your hands in my blood 1 ” 

And the unfortunate young man endeavored to drag his 
feeble body to Julio’s feet ; but the latter drew his dagger in 
a threatening manner. 

Geronimo uttered a cry of despair, crawled back to the 
side of the grave, and fell exhausted on the ground, where 
he bewept his sad fate. 

His stifled sobs were so heart-breaking that Julio’s soul 
was stirred within him, and without being conscious of it, he 
wiped away the tears which fell from his eyes. 

In a voice full of compassion he said : 

“ Come, signor, be calm, and submit with resignation to 
the irrevocable decree of fate. When one has lived like you 
in the fear of God, honorably and loyally, death is but the 
passage to a better life.” 

A cry of indignation mingled with the convulsive sobs of 
the young gentleman. 

“I understand you,” said Julio; “you think that my pity 
is a cruel irony ; you believe me to be inhuman. Even in 
the tomb you might justly call down maledictions on the 
head of the murderer who of his own will and choice would 
deprive you of life. But, alas I signor, I have neither will 
nor choice in the matter. To-morrow the officers of justice 
will search this house and cellar.” 

“ To-morrow ! ” exclaimed Geronimo, a new hope spring- 
ing up in his heart. 

“ If I let you live, they would infallibly find you here,” 
pursued Julio. “This hope inspires you with joy; vain 


THE AMULET. 


151 


hope! signor, for should it be realized, my master would 
perish on the scaffold, and I would expiate my crime on the 
gallows 1 ” 

“Julio,” said Geronimo, beseechingly, “I will remove 
all suspicion from you ; I will declare you innocent ; I will 
reward you magnificently.” 

“ It would be useless, signor. The law knows no mercy. 
My master would betray the part I had in the deed ; and do 
you think the judges would pardon me for having pushed 
you into the chair ? ” 

“ Save me, spare my life, Julio ; and if necessary for your 
acquittal, I will kneel to the bailiff, I will appeal to the em- 
peror himself” 

There is another reason, unknown to you, signor,” re- 
plied Julio, bitterly. “ I am a fugitive, condemned to death 
by the laws of Italy. My master alone knows my real 
name. The least infidelity on my part would make him de- 
liver me into the hands of those who for five years have been 
seeking me. Think you, then, that it is in my power to 
spare you ? It is my own and my master’s death you de- 
mand. And what a death I For him, the axe of the exe- 
cutioner and eternal infamy to his family ; for me, the rack, 
the wheel, the gallows. Do not blame me then, signor ; do 
not contend against implacable fate ; employ your last mo- 
ments in prayer, or tell me that you are ready to receive the 
mortal blow. Nothing can save you ; that open tomb tells 
you a sad but pitiless truth. Again I beg you, signor, lift 
up your heart to God, and do not force me to make use of 
sudden violence.” 

“ Die so young and guiltless I ” lamented Geronimo. 
“ Never again to see the light of heaven ! O Mary, my be- 
loved I how you will deplore my fate ! My poor uncle ! 
sorrow will bring your gray hairs to the grave 1 ” 

The accents of despair made Julio shudder ; but he said, 
in a cold manner : 

“Are you ready, signor?” 


152 


THE AMULET. 


“ A moment more, one moment for prayer ! ” said Gero- 
nimo. 

He joined his hands and uttered a fervent prayer ; but 
although he apparently accepted his fate with resignation, it 
was equally evident that his soul struggled against the death 
which was hanging over him. 

By degrees, however, prayer brought resignation and con- 
solation to Geronimo, for the nervous trembling of his 
limbs ceased and his voice became more distinct and calm. 

- Julio fixed his eyes on Geronimo, and his heart was 
touched when he thought he heard him ask pardon of God 
for his enemies ; but when the lips of the young man pro- 
nounced his own name in ardent supplication, and he 
distinctly heard his unfortunate victim praying for the 
soul of his murderer, Julio dropped his knife, and said, with 
a deep sigh : 

“My courage has forsaken me! I have not the strength 
to accomplish this cruel act.” 

“ Ah I ” exclaimed Geronimo, as Julio pronounced these 
words, “it is a voice from heaven speaking to your heart. 
Hearken to it. Have pity on me ! spare my life ! ” 

Julio was too absorbed in his own thoughts to heed Gero- 
nimo. In accents of despair he muttered : 

“ Frightful situation I Beside the very grave I have dug 
for him, he prays for my soul ! And can I shed his blood ? 
But there is no help for it. I must — I must I ” 

The young gentleman remarked the struggle in Julio’s 
soul, and he mustered up all his strength to approach him ; 
but Julio, seeing Geronimo’s design, picked up his knife, 
took the lamp, and left the cellar, saying : 

“ It is useless, signor. Fate is more powerful than we are ; 
and struggle as we may against its inevitable decrees, they 
must be accomplished 1 The sight of your sorrow has de- 
prived nie of all courage. I go to regain strength. I will 
soon return. Be prepared, for this time I will act without 
delay I ” 


THE AMULET. 


153 


He closed the door and walked slowly down the passage. 
Having reached his room, he stamped with anger, uttered 
desperate words, struck his forehead with his fist, vented 
his impatience, because he could see no solution of his diffi- 
culties. He paced the room like a madman, fought the 
air, stopped, resumed his walk, — until exhausted he 
threw himself into a chair. Sorrow, anguish, and rage, by 
turns were depicted on his countenance. He lamented the 
necessity of the murder, and complained in bitter terms of 
his sad fate. But in vain he tortured his brain — not a ray 
of light came to illumine his darkness. The pitiless “I 
must do it ! ” was the invariable refrain. 

By chance his eye fell upon the two bottles which he had 
placed upon the table, and as if the sight had inspired him 
with a sudden resolution, he seized one of the bottles, un- 
corked it, and putting it to his lips, drank a long draught, 
stopped a moment for breath, then emptied the bottle. 

He remained some time immovable as if to test the in- 
fluence of the wine on his mind, swallowed half of the second 
bottle, drew his dagger, took the lamp, and descended the 
stairs, saying : 

“ Now my courage will not fail me ! No more words : a 
single blow and all will be over ! I must strike him in the 
back ; he wears a cuirass on his breast.” 

Opening the door of the cellar, he placed the lamp on the 
ground without speaking, and raising his dagger, he walked 
directly towards Geronimo, who lifted his hands imploringly. 

Within a few steps of his victim, Julio, with an exclama- 
tion of surprise, stopped suddenly as if immovable. His 
eye fell upon an object which Geronimo held in his hand 
and extended to him, as though it had power to turn aside 
the mortal blow. 

It was a flat copper medal, in the centre of which was a 
cross and other emblems, and attached to it was a bright 
steel chain. 

Julio, forgetful of what he was about to do, sprang for- 


154 


THE AMULET. 


ward, seized the strange medal, examined it closely, and 
said, in astonishment : 

“ This amulet in your hands, signor ! What does it mean ? 
How came you by it?” 

Geronimo, whose every thought was fixed upon death, was 
too much startled by the sudden transition to reply imme- 
diately. 

“ Speak, tell me whence comes this amulet ? Who gave 
it to you?” 

“ From Africa — from a blind woman,” answered Gero- 
nimo, almost unintelligibly. 

“ In Africa ? And the woman’s name ? ” said Julio, be- 
side himself with impatience. 

“ Mostajo. Teresa Mostajo ! ” 

“ Teresa Mostajo ! You are then the liberator of my poor 
blind mother ! ” 

“ Then you will spare my life ! • God of mercy, I thank 
thee, there is still hope ! ” ■ 

But Julio heeded not the words of the young man. 

“ This amulet,” he said, “ recalls my native village. I see 
again my father, mother, friends. I see myself as I was 
before dissipation led me to sin and vice. This amulet, 
brought by my grandfather from Jerusalem, protected my 
father against many dangers, saved my 'mother’s life ; and 
you, signor, you owe to the same amulet escape from a 
violent death, for it turned aside my master’s dagger from 
your breast. Strange and mysterious power which thus 
shields the victim from his executioner ! ” 

“ Julio,” said Geronimo, “ keep me not in suspense. Say 
that you will not take my life. Be merciful to the man 
whose name is blessed by the lips of your mother ! ” 

“Fear not, signor; rather than shed one drop of your 
blood, I would pay the penalty of my guilty life on the 
gallows. But I must reflect upon our peculiar situation, for 
my mind is not clear ; perhaps I may discover a means of 
escape. Do not disturb me, I beg you.” 


THE AMULET. 


166 


He withdrew to the coroer of the cellar where he had 
been previously seated, and remained motionless for some 
time, without giving any sign of the agitation of his mind. 

Geronimo regarded him at first with a look of joyful 
anticipation; by degrees, however, his face wore an ex- 
pression of sadness and surprise; it seemed to him that 
Julio had fallen asleep. He was mistaken, how'ev6r, for 
Julio arose after a while, and said : 

“ Now I see my way clearly. I will save you, signor ; 
but in doing that, I might as well avoid securing a halter 
for myself. You must have patience until to-morrow. It 
is now about nine o’clock in the evening, and the time, I 
know, will be very long to you. But you must submit to a 
condition which is necessary for the preservation of my own 
life. To-morrow, at daybreak, I shall quit the city and 
country. Before leaving, I will set you at liberty. Do not 
attempt to shake my resolution ; let me go now, signor, and 
expect with confidence your deliverance.” 

Geronimo joined his hands, and said, feebly : 

“ Thanks, thanks, and may the good God show you the 
mercy you have shown to me ! I have yet a favor to im- 
plore, a benefit to ask.” 

“ Speak, signor, what do you wish ? ” 

“ It is long since I awoke from my death-like stupor. I 
know not how long, and I am tormented by hunger and 
thirst ; you have kept life in me by the wine so kindly be- 
stowed, but now my body demands nourishment. Give me 
bread.” 

“ Bread !” said Julio, “ there is not a mouthful of food in 
the house.!’ 

But seeing Geronimo’s eyes fixed in supplication upon 
him, he added : 

“ It is not late ; perhaps I may find some shop still open. 
I will return presently ; remain quiet, and have no anxiety, 
signor.” 

He took the lamp, left the cellar, closing the door after 


156 


THE AMULET. 


him, and ascended to his room. There folding his arms, he 
began to muse : 

“ How strange ! the young merchant who, at the risk of 
his own life, defended my mother from her Moslem master, 
who paid her ransom, and liberated her from slavery — that 
merchant was Geronimo! By some mysterious influence 
the amulet protected his heart from the blade of his vindic- 
tive enemy; and when I am about to shed his blood, 
behold, the amulet paralyzes my arm. It is incompre- 
hensible ! ” 

The current of his thoughts changed. Seizing the half 
empty bottle, he drank its contents. 

“ Strange,” said he, “ how the bad effects of liquor are 
controlled by the emotions ! I have taken enough to de- 
prive me of consciousness, and I feel my mind as clear as 
though I had not touched a drop. This last draught, how- 
ever, has mounted to my brain. So it is decreed that my 
master, Simon Turchi, must die upon the scaffold? It is 
disagreeable for both of us, but I could not help it. I shall 
not know w^hat to do when the two hundred crowns are 
spent ; necessity will force me to seek other resources, even 
at the risk of the gallows, and in all probability the fatal 
noose will encircle my neck. Bah ! if it is predestined, who 
can prevent it ? My master and I will receive only what 
we deserve. But I am forgetting the starving young gentle- 
man ; I must go out to procure him some food. It will be 
a fine opportunity to drink a pint of wine at the Swan ; that 
cannot be closed yet, for gamblers do not keep early hours. 
Only one pint in passing ! not more, for if my reason became 
clouded, I cannot answer for the consequences ; but there is 
no need to fear that, for my Mfe is at stake. I will return 
in half an hour.” 

He extinguished the lamp, and hastily traversed the 
garden. 


THE AMULET. 


157 


CHAPTER X. 

SIMON TURChPs alarm — CRIME BEGETS CRIME. 

S OME time after the hour of Change, Simon Turchi had 
returned home, and was apparently preparing to go out 
again, for he had changed his doublet for one of a darker 
color, and his cloak lay on a chair beside him. 

The signor was in high spirits; he carried his head 
proudly, a radiant smile illumined his countenance, and 
from time to time he rubbed his hands with an air of 
triumph. Julio had left for Germany ! Nothing could have 
prevented his departure, for he had not been seen in the city. 
Simon Turchi has therefore no cause for fear, for if, contrary 
to expectation, his garden be searched and the corpse of 
Geronimo be discovered, the murder could easily be fastened 
upon Julio. 

Already, by vague remarks to his servants and acquaint- 
ances, Turchi had prepared the way for making the accusa- 
tion in case of necessity. He had exhibited great anxiety 
at Julio’s absence the night before and during that day. 
He said that he had sharply reproved his servant for his 
dissipated habits and his neglect of duty. Julio had left him 
in evident anger. 

The servants, who could not comprehend their master’s anx- 
iety, thought that he might be in some tavern, drowning his 
feelings with drink and awaiting the night to return home. 
To this Turchi answered that he had remarked for some 
time Julio’s strange manner, that he seemed so absent- 
minded, was often heard to sigh and weep — in a word, 
something weighty appeared pressing on his conscience. 

Early in the morning he sent Bernardo to the pavilion to 
see if Julio were there. Bernardo reported that there was 
no evidence of his having been there, except two empty 
14 


158 


THE AMULET. 


bottles upon a table. Simon pretended that be bad bad tbe 
bottles placed in tbe room, and Bernardo thought no more 
of the affair. 

Simon Turcbi would have satisfied himself by personal ex- 
amination if Julio had thoroughly performed his work before 
his departure, but he feared to Excite attention by his ap- 
pearance in that direction ; or, perhaps, he might even be 
obliged to assist at the search of his garden, should the 
bailiff refuse to exempt it. He determined to go to the cellar 
at nightfall, when the search must be interrupted, to examine 
the arrangements made by Julio. When therefore twilight 
was commencing to replace the glare of day, and Simon was 
certain of not meeting the officers of the law, he threw his 
cloak around his shoulders, turned with a light step and 
joyous heart the corner of the street, and took the direction 
to the square of Meir. 

He had gone but a short distance, when he met Messire 
John Van Schoonhoven. 

A smile lighted up Turchi’s countenance. He was de- 
lighted to be accidentally brought into the bailiff’s company, 
as he would thus learn the result of the researches already 
made. 

After a polite salutation, Messire Van Schoonhoven said : 

“ I am happy to meet you. I was on my way to your 
house.” 

“To my house?” said Turchi. “Have you news of my 
friend?” 

“ No, signor; I wish to see you concerning an affair which, 
although not serious, necessitates a conversation with you. 
I would have spoken to you on this subject this evening 
when at Mr. Van de Werve’s, but the place was inappro- 
priate to such discussions.” 

“ Keturn then with me,” stammered Turchi, with ill-dis- 
guised anxiety. 

“Where were you going, signor?” said the bailiff. 

“ I was going to take a walk along the Scheldt, in order 


THE AMULET. 159 

to seek some diversion to the grief I feel for the disappear- 
ance of the unfortunate Geronimo.’’ 

“ What I have to say, signor, need not interfere with your 
walk.^ I will accompany you a part of the way and enjoy 
with you the evening breeze.” 

The bailiif turned and walked by Turchi’s side. 

Looking around, to assure himself that they were not 
overheard, Messire Van Schoonhoven said : 

“ The affair in question would not require so many pre- 
cautions were I not bailiff and you my friend. But in con- 
sequence of these two reasons, my mission becomes painful, 
and I must claim in advance your forbearance. You know 
that my agents are searching every house, building, and 
garden in the vicinity of the Hospital Grounds where Gero- 
nimo was last seen. The greatest part of this quarter has 
been carefully examined without any result.” 

Simon Turchi perfectly understood the bailiff’s design, 
and although his heart beat painfully, he mastered his emo- 
tion, and said in an indifferent tone ; 

“And you think, Messire Van Schoonhoven, that my 
garden should be searched in like manner? It is very nat- 
ural. No one is above the law — the knight and the peasant 
are there equal.” 

“ Believe me, signor, that the thought of so disrespectful a 
conduct towards an honorable nobleman, and that nobleman 
my friend for years, would never have occurred to me. But 
the search became a necessity without any fault of mine. 
The presence of at least twenty of my agents in that quarter 
attracted the curious. A crowd followed those engaged in 
the search, and when it was noticed that your summer-house 
was the only one exempted, the magistrates were openly 
accused of injustice. The people were told that this was 
done by my order ; but so great was the commotion that the 
affair reached the ears of the burgomaster and the consta- 
bles, and these gentlemen waited on me, urging me to visit 
your garden likewise, so as to remove all cause of com- 
plaint.” 


160 


THE AMULET. 


“ This explanation is wholly unnecessary, at least as far 
as 'regards myself,” interrupted Simon Turchi. “I desire 
you to search my country-house as you do all the other 
dwellings in the vicinity.” 

They were not far from the bridge of Meir, and they 
ceased speaking, as in so frequented a place they were in 
danger of being overheard. Farther on, Turchi said : 

“ I acknowledge, however, that I am hurt and irritated 
by the disrespect and audacity of the populace. One might 
be tempted to suppose that they considered me capable of 
killing my best friend ! My blood boils at the idea of such 
a suspicion ! ” 

Simon gladly availed himself of the opportunity thus 
offered of attributing to a just indignation the cruel anxiety 
which tortured him. He had anticipated the announcement 
just made him by the bailiff, and in consequence had taken 
suitable measures to screen himself in case of discovery; 
but now a terrible doubt as to the result of the search, and 
as to the confidence which might be reposed in his state- 
ments, arose in his mind. The least unforeseen accident, the 
slightest oversight in his arrangement, might be his ruin. 

“ It is scandalous ! ” he exclaimed, shaking his fist. “ To 
express publicly the opinion that a nobleman could so far 
degrade himself as to become a secret assassin ! I will know 
who my insolent calumniators are, and I will then see if 
justice has power at Antwerp to protect an innocent stranger 
against the defamation of the people ! ” 

“ Calm yourself, signor,” said Messire Van Schoonhoven ; 
“ I comprehend your well-founded indignation ; but you are 
mistaken if you think the perquisition ordered by the burgo- 
master and constables be, in your regard, aught but a con- 
descension to the clamors of the multitude. As for myself, 
I beg you not to be displeased with me for accomplishing 
my duty.” 

“ You need offer no excuse, messire,” said Simon, speaking 
more calmly. “ It is but proper and natural to search my 


THE AMULET. 


161 


garden. I am irritated solely by the insolence of the people. 
Do your duty, and continue to honor me with a friendship 
of which I am proud, and of which I will always strive to 
be worthy.” 

“ When will it be convenient to you. Signor Turchi, to 
have the officers visit your house?” asked the bailiff. 

“ The time is perfectly indifferent to me.” 

“ But appoint an hour ; I would regret causing you any 
inconvenience or trouble.” 

Simon Turchi reflected a moment, and said : 

“ To-morrow morning urgent affairs demand my attention ; 
come then about noon.” 

“ Suppose we say two o’clock ? ” 

Very well ; between two and three.” 

“ I will call for you to accompany me, signor. Do not be 
disturbed by this domiciliary visit ; it implies no suspicion, 
but, as I said before, it is a simple condescension to the 
populace. Shall I have the honor of meeting you this even- 
ing at the house of Mr. Van de AVerve?” 

“ I do not know, messire. Mary’s excessive grief affects 
me so much that it haunts me day and night. Would that 
I could offer the least consolation to the afllicted young girl ! 
But of what use is it to mingle my tears with hers, when 
there is no ray of hope to illumine the darkness of her de- 
spair ? ” 

Messire Van Schoonhoven pressed Simon’s hand. 

“ Your sincere friendship for Geronimo does you honor, 
signor,” he said. “Were he your own brother, you could 
not be more deeply grieved. And how great is your gen- 
erosity ! Geronimo was your friend, but he was at the same 
time an obstacle to the accomplishment of the dearest wish 
of your heart. Through affection for him you have sacri- 
ficed your fondest hopes of happiness. But the inexplicable 
disappearance of Geronimo spreads out before you a brighter 
future. Time will alleviate the bitterness of Mary’s sorrow, 
and who so well as yourself, signor, could restore her to 
14* L 


162 


THE AMULET. 


happiness — you who possess her father’s confidence and 
esteem ? ” 

“ Speak not of such things,” said Simon. “ I would gladly 
yield all the happiness the future might have in store for 
me to see my friend once more unharmed. But alas ! alas !” 

“ That does not prevent me, signor, from cherishing the 
hope that, if Geronimo is really dead, you may one day 
receive the reward of your sincere friendship and your mag- 
nanimous generosity. To-morrow at two o’clock ! May God 
be with you, signor ! ” 

“And may He protect you, messire !” 

Simon Turchi watched him until he was lost to sight, and 
then glanced around in order to note the degree of darkness. 
He drew his cloak closely around him, and walked rapidly 
down a side street, which soon brought him before the gate 
of his own garden. Unlocking the door, he traversed the 
walk rendered almost invisible by the darkness. 

Reaching the house, he lighted a lamp and ascended the 
stairs to a room, which, in better times, he was accustomed 
to use as a bed-room, when occasionally he passed the night 
at the pavilion. 

Casting his cloak upon a chair, he seated himself near a 
table, evidently a prey to distracting thoughts. He drew a 
phial from his doublet, and fixed his eyes upon it. By de- 
grees, however, the clouds seemed to pass from his mind. 
He replaced the phial in his doublet, and said, calmly : 

“ Why am I so terrified ? Did I not expect the search ? 
Have not my precautions been well taken ? What have I 
to fear? Julio is already at such a distance that he cannot 
be overtaken. If the corpse be found in the cellar, I will 
impute the crime to Julio. My explanation will be such 
that there will be no room for suspicion. But suppose it 
should be known ! O torturing doubt ! What a desperate 
game ! Wealth, honor, power, and the hand of Mary Van 
de Werve, against my life and the honor of my family! 
Triumph and happiness on the one hand ; disgrace and 


THE AMULET. 


163 


death on the scaffold on the other ! Suppose I go to the 
bailiff, and accuse Julio of the murder ? That would put 
me above suspicion. But no ; the search will be superficial, 

mere matter of form for the sake of appearances. If Julio 
as arranged things properly, they will merely cast a glance 
into the cellar. My presence will be a restraint upon the 
officers, and will prevent them from pushing their search so 
far as to imply a suspicion. If they do not find the body, 
as is probable, the affair will forever remain secret, and I 
will have in future no cause for alarm. I must take courage 
and descend into the cellar, to see how Julio performed the 
task assigned him before his departure.” 

He approached a large wardrobe, took from it a bottle, 
poured out a large glass of wine and drank it. Lighted by 
the lamp, he descended the staircase and approached the 
cellar ; but before proceeding through the subterranean 
passage, he hesitated and stepped back: 

“ Singular ! ” he said ; “ I am overpowered by fear ! I 
recoil in terror before that dark cave, as though the dead 
could arise from the grave to take revenge. What ! I had 
the courage to stab him while living, and yet I tremble upon 
approaching the spot where lie his inanimate remains ! Away 
with this childish terror ! ” 

However bold his words, the Signor Turchi did not be- 
come calm, and his heart beat violently as he again slowly 
approached the entrance to the cellar. He hesitated an in- 
stant, as he looked down the long, dark passage, but was 
about to proceed, when a noise outside the building made 
him shake with fear. 

“What can it be? Am I not mistaken? Some one un- 
locks the garden-gate ! Will I be found here ? Am I be- 
trayed ? ” 

After a moment of torturing doubt he fled from the cellar 
to his room, his hair bristling with terror. 

“ They open the door of the house ! They are within ! 
They come ! Great heavens ! What can it mean ? ” 


164 


THE AMULET. 


A man appeared on the threshold of the room in which 
Simon Turchi had taken refuge. 

“ Julio ! it is Julio ! ” exclaimed Simon, in despair. 

The servant reeled under the influence of liquor. His 
cheeks were flushed, his eyes wandering, and while the smile 
upon his lips indicated a disagreeable surprise at the pres- 
ence of his master, it also said plainly that he feared not 
Simon’s anger. He held in his hand a small wheaten loaf, 
but he hid it hastily under his doublet as if unwilling for 
Turchi to see it. 

Casting upon him a look of fury, Simon Turchi sprang to 
his feet, clenched his flst, and exclaimed in a rage : 

“ This is too much ! Infamous traitor ! cowardly rascal ! 
whence do you come ? Does hell itself bring you here for 
the destruction of both of us ? Speak, base drunkard, and 
tell me why you are here ! Quick, or I will stretch you 
dead at my feet. I thirst for your blood.” 

Julio drew his knife from the scabbard and stammered, 
in a voice indistinct from intoxication : 

“Wait awhile, signor. Wine, good wine has dulled my 
senses. You want to kill me? It would be very fortunate 
for one of us to die here — the executioner would have less 
work. But which of us must flrst render our account before 
the supreme tribunal, my knife and your dagger will decide. 
I am ready.” 

“ Insolent wretch !” .cried Turchi, grinding his teeth, “ my 
own safety and yours compel me to a painful circumspec- 
tion ; but beware how you brave me ! Tell me why you are 
not on your way to Germany.” 

“ You ask me something that I don’t know myself. But 
let me see. Just as I was about to leave I went to the 
Swan, and drank a few pints of wine. This morning, when 
I awoke, I was seated before a table at the Silver Dice. 
How I came there, I cannot tell. It was then too late for 
me to pass the gate. I determined to wait until to-morrow, 
and I came here to take a night’s rest before setting out on 
the journey.” 


THE AMULET. 


165 


“ And you played at dice ? ” said Turchi. 

“ I think I did ; for the rattling of the dice still sounds in 
my ears.” 

“ And the money ? the two hundred crowns ? ” 

“ Be quiet, 'signor, on that point. I ask you for nothing. 
What business is it of yours that I have spent or lost a few 
pieces of gold, provided I leave for Germany to-morrow at 
daybreak ? ” 

Simon Turchi was like one frenzied. 

“ Yes,” he exclaimed, “ and at the first tavern you meet 
^ on the way you will drown your senses with drink, and you 
will squander my money.” 

“ Not so, signor ; rely upon me — I will leave to-morrow 
morning at daybreak, and if I drink on the way it will only 
be to quench a burning thirst.” 

Simon Turchi’s eye shone with a sudden and mysterious 
light, excited by some secret thought. He became calm, 
and shrugging his shoulders, said quietly, as though he sub- 
mitted with resignation ta the contradictions which he could 
not avoid: 

“ I ought, Julio, to punish your want of fidelity. If the 
bailiff had come here to-day, as I expected, your culpable 
neglect of duty would have placed us both in the hands of 
justice. Fortunately the visit will not be made before noon 
to-morrow. As your negligence has had no evil conse- 
quences, I fully pardon you, upon condition that you leave 
the city before sunrise, and that you travel without stopping 
until you reach the Khine.” 

“Never fear this time, signor,” replied Julio. “I will 
pass the night here, and at early dawn I will be beyond the 
city gate. In the first village I will buy a horse, and I will 
make such speed that he who would catch me must needs 
have wings.” 

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, and 
said : 

“ I am overpowered by fatigue and sleep. If you have no 


166 


THE AMULET. 


other directions to give, permit me, signor, to go to bed, that 
I may be ready for the morning.’’ 

“ Then I may rely upon you, Julio ? ” 

“ Have no anxiety about my journey ; the rising sun will 
not find me at Antwerp.” 

“ Are you certain ? ” 

“ As certain as I am that a halter hangs over my head, 
and over yours something quite as disagreeable.” 

This jest of his servant made Turchi convulsively contract 
his lips, but he restrained any expression of feeling, and 
arose, saying : 

“ Julio, would you like a glass of good Malmsey ? ” 

“ Ah, signor,” replied the servant, “ I was just thinking 
that a cup of Malmsey would relieve my parched throat, 
when, lo ! my desire finds an echo in your heart.” 

“ One single glass — a parting bumper.” 

“ One or many, signor, as you wish — either will be wel- 
come ; but the excellent wine locked in the cupboard of your 
room will be particularly acceptable.” 

‘‘Well, Julio, come with me, and we will drink to the 
happy termination of your journey.” 

He arose, traversed a passage, and ascended to the upper 
story. The servant followed him staggering, and trying to 
steady himself by the wall. 

Having reached his~bed-room, Turchi drew a second chair 
to the table, and said : 

“ Sit down, Julio ; here is a bottle already opened. If I 
did not fear its effects, we would empty it in honor of your 
departure.” 

Julio sat down, and held the bottle before the lamp. 

“ Bah ! ” he exclaimed, “ it only contains about four glasses. 
You need not trouble yourself about that quantity.” 

Signor Turchi took two large glasses from the cupboard, 
placed them on the table, and filled them to the brim. 

“A pleasant journey to you, Julio,” he said, “and may 
you arrive safely at your destination.” 


THE AMULET. 


167 


They both emptied their glasses at one draught, hut the 
servant pushed his glass to his master, saying : 

“ Oh, the divine liquor ! it is a cooling balm to my burn- 
ing throat. One more glass, signor, I beg you.” 

Simon filled the glasses again, and said : 

“Yes, but on condition that you wait awhile before drink- 
ing it.” 

Hoping that his obedience might procure him a third 
glass, Julio resisted the temptation to gratify himself at once. 

In the meantime, Turchi contemplated his servant with a 
peculiar expression. There was a malicious sparkle in his 
eye, and a smile of triumph on his lips. He evidently had 
some purpose in thus watching Julio ; but what could be his 
secret design ? 

At last he pretended that he was about to take the wine, 
but by a quick movement he upset it. 

With an exclamation of impatience he raised the glass, 
and said : 

“ It is a sin to spill such wine. Now I have no more in 
which to drink your health. Get another bottle, Julio, from 
the cupboard ; it is perhaps the last time that we shall drink 
together. On the third shelf, the bottle with the long neck.” 

Julio arose with difiiculty from his chair, and staggered 
to the cupboard. 

Simon Turchi thrust his hand in his doublet, and drew 
out a very small phial. He hastily poured nearly the whole 
contents into Julio’s glass, and immediately concealed the 
phial ; and although he trembled in every limb, he said, 
calmly : 

“A little higher, Julio — to the left; that is the right 
bottle.” 

The servant brought the bottle to his master, who un- 
corked it ; but as he was about to pour out the wine, he 
said: 

“ Empty your glass, Julio ; this is a difierent wine, and 
the mixture would spoil both.” 


168 


THE AMULET. 


Julio drank the wine, but no sooner had be swallowed it 
than he exclaimed : 

“ What was in my glass ? It had a strange, bitter taste. 
Did you put poison in it?” 

“ What a silly idea ! ” said Turchi, turning pale. 

“ You are capable of such a deed, signor.” 

“ The lees gave the bad taste, Julio. Take another glass, 
and it will pass away.” 

Emptying his glass again, Julio said : 

“You are right; it is gone. I never tasted anything in 
my life more disagreeable.” 

Turchi watched his servant narrowly. With assumed 
carelessness he said : 

“ Take care, Julio, to be up by daybreak. Go on foot to 
the village of Lierre ; buy a good horse there, and make all 
possible haste to reach Diest ; that is the shortest route, and 
you will be more likely to escape notice than on the high- 
way. Once in Cologne, you are out of danger ; but be careful 
not to remain there. Merchants from Antwerp frequently 
visit that city ; you might possibly be recognized and ar- 
rested. You must leave the territories of the emperor. 
When the afiair is forgotten, and when by my marriage 
with Miss Van de Werve I will have acquired a consider- 
able fortune, I will send for you, and you will live with me 
as a friend rather than a servant. You shall spend your 
days in pleasure, and you will never have cause to regret 
what you have done for me. But, Julio, you do not answer ? 
Is not su.ch a fate desirable ? ” 

“ I am overpowered by sleep,” stammered Julio, almost 
unintelligibly. 

A triumphant smile flitted across Turchi’s face. 

“ To-morrow at two o’clock,” he continued, “ the officers 
of justice will make a domiciliary visit here, but the bailiff 
will permit no search which intimates a suspicion. Since 
you have filled the cellar with fire-wood and empty casks, 
the bailiff will be satisfied that all is right. Perhaps, Julio, 
I may be able to recall you in two or three months.” 


THE AMULET. 


169 


Julio’s head had fallen upon the table, but from time to 
time he started and muttered some indistinct words, showing 
that he was not in a deep sleep. Without once removing 
his eye from him, Simon continued to speak, although he 
was convinced that Julio no longer heard his words. 

Suddenly Julio groaned. His head and limbs fell as 
though he had been struck by death ; but the heaving of 
the chest and the deep scarlet of the cheeks proved that he 
was in a heavy sleep. 

Simon quietly contemplated him for a while longer with a 
smile of satisfaction. Then he arose, approached his servant, 
shook him violently, and cried out : 

“ Julio, Julio, wake up!” 

Julio did not stir. \ 

“It succeeds according to my wishes,” he said. “The 
poison is doing its work. He is deaf and insensible ; he re- 
poses in an eternal sleep. Life will be extinguished by 
degrees until sleep makes way for death. But I must not 
tarry. I must act quickly and forget nothing. And first 
the money I ” 

He searched Julio’s pocket, and found in it one hundred 
and twenty crowns. After counting them on the table, he 
exclaimed : 

“ Eighty crowns spent already ! It is impossible. He has 
either lost them at the gaming-table, or been robbed while 
he was sleeping in the tavern.” 

Still doubtful, he examined his garments, and found in a 
purse under his girdle the twenty crowns which he had des- 
tined for his mother. 

“ Ah, ah ! ” said Simon, laughing ; “ I had not all ; I hear 
the sound of gold.” 

He put the twenty crowns with the rest of the money, 
and having satisfied himself that no more remained on the 
person of Julio, he was about to transfer the crowns to his 
pocket, when a sudden idea occurred to his mind. 

“ If I leave all this money on his person, they might think 
15 


170 


THE AMULET. 


he had been paid to commit the deed ; if I leave nothing, 
there will be no reason to conclude that he killed the Signor 
Geronimo to rob him. I wonder how much money Gero- 
nimo generally carried about him. I should suppose five 
or six crowns, or perhaps ten. I will leave six crowns and 
all the small change. And the keys ? He must keep them, 
or, of course, he could not have entered without my knowl- 
edge. But should he be roused to consciousness by the 
death-agony, he might have sufficient strength to get out. 
I will leave him all the keys but that of the outer building. 
Iron bars render the place secure ; he could not even enter 
the garden. Now I will put the phial in his doublet — no, 
in the pocket of his girdle ; it will be as easily found. I 
will remove the bottles and everything which could indicate 
the presence of two persons.” 

He locked up the bottles and glasses, arranged the chairs, 
and wiped up the wine which had been spilled on the table 
and the floor. 

While thus engaged, he muttered to himself : 

“ I must not remain longer. I myself must go to the bailiff 
and accuse Julio of the murder. Shall I go this evening ? 
No ; they might come and find him alive, and a powerful 
antidote might perhaps rouse him from sleep. To-morrow, 
then — to-morrow morning. But how shall I explain the 
affair? When and how did he reveal his crime? Night 
will suggest a means. All is done. I will go home and 
appear calm and cheerful.” 

He threw his cloak around his shoulders, took the lamp 
from the table, and walked to the door. There he stopped 
for a moment to contemplate his victim and precipitately 
descended the staircase. At the foot of the steps he extin- 
guished the light, traversed the garden, opened the gate, and 
disappeared in the darkness. 


THE AMULET. 


171 


CHAPTER XI. 

FOOD AT LAST — DEATH OF JULIO. 

V HEX Julio left the cellar for the purpose of procuring 
bread, Geronimo cast himself on his knees, full of 
gratitude to God, to return thanks for the unexpected deliv- 
erance. 

Julio had said “soon,” but an hour passed, then another, 
then many more, and he came not. 

A painful doubt began to take possession of Geronimo’s 
mind. Had an accident happened to Julio ? Had he per- 
haps cruelly abandoned his victim ? Had he set out for 
Germany with the certainty that hunger would kill him 
whom the dagger had spared ? 

The unfortunate cavalier had no means of measuring the 
flight of time. What in the immutable darkness of his 
prison seemed to him a century, might in reality be only a 
few hours, and the promised bread would soon appear to his 
eyes as the star of safety — in a quarter of an hour, in a 
minute — that very instant. 

By such reflections Geronimo sought to endure patiently 
the pangs of hunger. He put his ear to the keyhole and 
ceased breathing that he might catch the slightest sound. 
Alas ! hour after hour passed in unbroken silence. Although 
Geronimo knew not whether it was day or night, his increas- 
ing sufierings were to him a sure indication of the passage of 
time. For a while he encouraged himself by the thought that 
Julio would not bring him the promised bread until dawn, 
and that he would give him at the same time food and liberty. 

This hope by degrees diminished, and at last vanished en- 
tirely. The suflering young man could not longer deceive 
either his body or his mind ; it became evident to him that 
the hour which he had hoped would restore him to freedom 
had long passed. 


172 


THE AMULET. 


He had been abandoned — devoted to a cruel martyrdom, 
a frightful death ! He was then to die in the midst of the 
torments of hunger — to die slowly in indescribable suffer- 
ing, and fall into the yawning grave prepared for him ! 

Struck with terror by the conviction thus forced upon 
him, the unfortunate cavalier arose despairingly and ran 
pantifig and crying around the cellar, as though he could 
thus escape the death which menaced him. 

The pain of his wounds was increased by this violent and 
feverish agitation. His breast heaved under his difficult 
respiration, but the gnawing hunger which agonized him 
made these sufferings seem light. Falling to the ground 
from exhaustion, he commenced, as soon as he had gained a 
little strength, his struggle against the tortures of hunger. 
At times his despair was cheered by the thought that even 
yet Julio might come. But Julio was plunged by the influ- 
ence of poison into a mortal sleep, and in all probability 
would appear before Geronimo at the judgment-seat of God. 

Hoping against hope, the young man seated himself on 
the ground. The violence of his sufferings seemed to abate 
and leave him at rest for a few moments. His thoughts 
wandered to all he loved upon earth, but the respite was of 
short duration. Soon the agony he endured drew from him 
piercing cries. During his long martyrdom no torment had 
equalled the present. It seemed as though he were being 
devoured by flames, or as if molten lead were coursing 
through his veins. 

He writhed in convulsions, beat his breast, and in heart- 
rending accents called upon God for help. But nothing 
relieved his horrible sufferings. 

He filled the air with his groans and screams, he beat the 
door with blind fury, tore the flesh from his fingers in his 
useless efforts to make an opening in his prison-walls, and ran 
from side to side as though the pangs of hunger had driven 
him mad. 

At last, exhausted and convinced that there was no escape, 


THE AMULET. 


173 


that he must soon enter into his last agony, he threw him- 
self upon the ground, bowed his head and joined his hands 
in prayer, begging for resignation to meet the death which 
would end his cruel martyrdom. His mind now appeared 
clear, and he was perfectly conscious, for after a while 
he shed a torrent of tears. His lips moved, giving utterance 
to confused sounds, but by degrees his words became more 
distinct, and fixing his eye in the darkness on the spot where 
he knew the grave had been dug, he said : 

“ No more hope ! All is over. I must die ! The grave 
yawns to receive me. Alas ! what a place for my mortal 
remains ! Forgotten, unknown, concealed by the darkness 
of a horrible crime ! Not a tear will fall upon the tomb of 
the unfortunate victim ; not a cross will mark the spot where 
I lie ; not a prayer will be whispered over my body ! Death 
approaches. Ah ! I must not thus cling to life ; I will pray 
and lift my hands in supplication to God. He alone — ” 

He stopped under the influence of a sudden emotion. 

“ Heavens ! did I not hear a noise ? ” 

He listened breathlessly for a time to catch the indistinct 
sound he thought he had heard ; but he was mistaken. 

“ Why should I hope, when hope is no longer possible ? 
Let me rather seek strength in the consideration of the 
better life which awaits me. The death I endure will purify 
me from all my sins. If God, in His impenetrable designs, 
has appointed this to be my earthly fate. He will, in His 
mercy, take into account before his judgment-seat what I 
have innocently sufiered here below. Consoling hope, which 
encourages me to look with confidence into eternity ! 

“And yet my life was so happy ! Everything in the world 
smiled upon me ; my path was strewn with roses ; the future 
spread out before me like a cloudless sky resplendent with 
stars. God had not only given me health, fortune, and peace 
of heart, but also the hope of uniting my fate with that of a 
lovely young girl. Mary Van de Werve! the incarnation 
of all that men admire and heaven loves; virtue, piety, 
15 * 


174 


THE AMULET. 


modesty, charity, beauty, love ! Alas ! alas ! must I leave 
all that? Must I say a last adieu, renounce my hopes, and 
never see her again ? Die and sleep forever in an unknown 
tomb, while she lives ! ” 

A cry of anguish escaped him. But it was caused rather 
by his train of thought than by the adieu he had just spoken, 
for he added, in a suppliant voice : 

“ Pardon, O Lord, pardon ! Thy creature clings to life ; 
but be not angry with the weakness of my nature. Should 
I die by the terrible death of starvation, I humbly accept 
Thy holy will, and I bless Thy hand which deals the blow ! 
God of mercy, grant that I may find grace with Thee ! ” 

Calmed by this invocation, he resumed, with less emotion 
and in a tone which proved that his soul had received con- 
solation : 

“ And if I be permitted in my last hour to offer to Thee 
my supplications, I pray Thee, O God of mercy, to spare 
my uncle, and let not my misfortune deprive him also of 
life. He was my father and benefactor ; he taught me to live 
in the fear of Thy holy name. By the cruel sufferings which 
I endure, by my terrible death, have pity on him ! Let Thy 
angels also guard and protect the pious and pure young girl 
who is before Thee as an immaculate dove ! Jesus, Saviour 
of mankind, on the cross you prayed to your heavenly 
Father for those who crucified Thee. Demand not an 
account of my blood from my enemy. Pardon him, lead 
him back to the path of virtue, and after death grant him 
eternal rest! My strength fails; the sweat of death is on 
my brow. O my God 1 in this, my last hour, grant me the 
grace to die with Thy love alone in my heart, and Thy holy 
name alone upon my lips ! ” 

The last words of this prayfer had scarcely fallen from his 
lips, when he cried aloud, arose trembling, and eagerly fixed 
his eyes upon the opposite wall, upon which a faint streak 
of light flickered. 

“ O my God 1 what means this?” he exclaimed. “Light? 


THE AMULET. 


175 


light? a voice? Is some one coming ? Is there still hope? 
I shall not die ! Cruel dream ! Frightful illusion ! But 
no, it is indeed a light ; it becomes brighter. I hear a human 
voice. Alas I this suspense is worse than death ! ” 

Tottering from weakness, and supporting himself by the 
sidesrof the wall, he gained the door, and trembling between 
hope and fear, he put his eye to the keyhole in order to dis- 
cover who was approaching his person. 

He saw in the distance a man with a lamp in his hand ; 
but his gestures were so strange, and his countenance so 
singular, that he was at a loss to know whether it were a 
human being, or only a creation of his own disordered brain. 

Still he heard confused sounds in the passage ; a voice 
seemed to complain, curse, and call for aid. 

By degrees the mysterious apparition drew nearer, and 
Geronimo recognized the servant of Simon Turchi ; but why 
w^as Julio writhing in such horrible convulsions? Why was 
his face so horribly contorted ? Why did he threaten and 
rage in such harsh accents ? 

A horrible conviction forced itself upon Geronimo’s mind. 
Julio had sought in drink the courage necessary to accom- 
plish the work which fate exacted of him. He had thus 
drowned his senses, and had come now to slay his victim 
without mercy. 

The thought for the moment roused his fears ; but he re- 
membered that he had just offered to God his life in expia- 
tion of his sins. He retired to the other side of the cellar, 
knelt by the side of the grave, and with a smile upon his 
lips and his eyes lifted to heaven, he calmly awaited the 
fatal blow. 

He heard Julio trying to insert the key in the lock as if 
his hand were unsteady. He noticed that there was no 
anger in his tone of voice ; on the contrary, the cries which 
escaped him were rather those of alarm and distress; but 
before he had time for reflection the door opened. 

Julio put down the lamp as if his strength had entirely 


176 


THE AMULET. 


failed him, and fell upon the ground, exclaiming in a sup- 
plicating voice : 

“ O signor, help, help ! I am poisoned ! A burning fire 
consumes me I Take pity on me! For the love of God, 
deliver me from this torture ! ” 

“Poisoned!” exclaimed Geronimo, hastening to Julio. 
“What has happened to you? The mark of death is on 
your face ! ” 

“ Simon Turchi gave me last night poisoned wine, in order 
to destroy the witness who could prove your death by his 
hand. He made me pay Bufferio to assassinate you. He 
wishes to marry Mary Van de Werve, and he desires to re- 
move any cause of fear that his happiness may be disturbed. 
Ah ! the poison consumes me ! ” 

“ Tell me, Julio, what I can do for your relief.” 

Saying this, he knelt by Julio, and threw open his doublet 
to give him air : 

“ Thanks, thanks, 0 my God ! here is bread ! ” exclaimed 
Geronimo, almost wild with joy, and snatching with feverish 
haste the small loaf which Julio had concealed, and which 
he had entirely fogotten since his fatal stupor. 

The young man, absorbed in satisfying his devouring 
hunger, no longer heeded Julio’s complaints, but having 
soon appeased its cravings, he took his hands, saying : 

“ I bless you, Julio, and may the omnipotent God reward 
you in heaven. Tell me what I can do to save you. Set 
me at liberty, and I will fly for physician and priest. The 
keys — quick, the keys ! ” 

“Alas!” said Julio, in a hopeless voice, “my cruel mur- 
derer took from me the keys of the door. We are shut up 
in the building. But I cannot die thus, consumed by poison, 
without confession, without hope of pardon for my soul ! Go 
up-stairs, signor, call aloud, break open the door, wrest the 
iron bars from the windows. Collect all your strength, take 
pity on me and help me ! ” 

Geronimo seized the keys, and, lighted by the lamp, he 


THE AMULET. 


177 


hastily traversed the subterranean passage, and mounted the 
staircase. 

The gray dawn was appearing in the east, but to the eyes 
of the young man so long accustomed to utter darkness it 
was almost as bright as noonday. 

Convinced that Julio’s condition demanded immediate aid, 
Geronimo hastily tried all the keys in the exterior door, 
pulled all the bolts, endeavored to wrench the door from the 
hinges, and worked with so much energy that at last he fell 
from weakness. 

Taking a short rest, he arose, threw up the windows, shook 
the iron bars, ran up-stairs and called aloud for help. But 
all his efforts were useless — the pavilion was too far removed 
from any habitation to permit him to indulge the hope that 
his voice, weak as it was, could be heard. 

In running through the building — almost maddened by 
despair — to seek an outlet, he entered the kitchen, where he 
perceived a vessel full of water. The sight filled him with 
joy. Perhaps water, taken in large quantities, might deaden 
the effects of the poison and save Julio’s life. At any rate, 
he had no other remedy, and as it was his only hope, he 
grasped at it as if it were an inspiration from heaven. 

Filling a pitcher, he ran with it to the cellar, and radiant 
with joy, approached Julio, who had barely strength to ask 
in a feeble voice : 

“ Is the priest coming ? Will the doctor 'be here ? Ah ! 
it is too late ! ” 

Drink,” said Geronimo, holding the pitcher to his lips ; 
“ the water will cool the inflammation and refresh you.” 

Julio took the water. 

“ Thank you, signor ; it is useless, the water does me no 
good.” 

“ Take more, I beg you, Julio, — as much as you can.” 

Julio obeyed mechanically and nearly emptied the pitcher. 
His respiration became very labored, and the sweat ran in 
big drops from his brow. 

M 


178 


THE AMULET. 


“Do you feel better, Julio?” asked the young man. 

“ A little better ; the heat is not so burning.” 

“There is still hope!” exclaimed Geronimo, joyfully. 
“Take courage, Julio; have confidence in the mercy of God. 
When all human aid fails us, then God gives his omnipotent 
assistance.” 

“But,” said Julio, “my heart beats so feebly, my limbs 
are benumbed. Signor, I am dying. The poison is killing 
me.” 

“Die? Julio! You have delivered me from death, and 
shall I be powerless to save you ? What shall I do ? O my 
God, what can I try ? ” 

“ Think no more of it, signor,” said the dying man. “ I 
feel that there is no hope. Alas ! I was partly the cause 
of your bitter sufferings : I pushed you into the chair ; I in- 
tended to kill you, the deliverer of my blind mother ! Take 
pity on me ! Let not your just malediction follow my poor 
soul into eternity. Pardon me, signor, pardon ! ” 

“ Speak not thus, Julio. But for you, that yawning grave 
would now cover my corpse. Shall I refuse pardon to you 
who spared my life ? No ; I will pray for you, I will give 
alms for the repose of your soul. Have confidence in the 
goodness of God.” 

“ Confidence?” said Julio, in a dying voice. “ I shudder to 
think of the judgment which awaits me. In this, my death 
agony, I see with frightful clearness. I dare not hope in 
God’s mercy. I have done nothing to merit it. A dark 
veil is before my eyes.” 

The death-rattle was in his throat. 

Geronimo passed his arm around his neck and raised his 
head, and seeing Julio’s eyes fixed upon him, he said, ten- 
derly and fervently : 

“ Julio, listen to me ! You say you dare not hope in the 
mercy of God ! Have you forgotten that Jesus Christ shed 
his blood to redeem fallen man ? Do you not know that 
there is joy before the angels when a sinner, by sincere re- 


THE AMULET. 


179 


pentance, escapes the eternal enemy of man and enters tri- 
umphant into heaven? You repent, do you not? You 
sincerely repent?” 

Julio bowed affirmatively. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Geronimo, “ if I cannot save your body 
from death, at least let me keep your soul from eternal 
torments. Oh ! if I could thus repay the debt of gratitude 
I owe you ! Julio, were God to prolong your life, would 
you renounce evil and return courageously and sincerely to 
the path of duty and virtue? You say yes? You implore 
God’s mercy, do you not? You have confidence in the inex- 
haustible treasure of his goodness? Then, Julio, raise your 
dying eyes to heaven, direct your last thoughts to Him who 
is the source of all mercy, and with full confidence let your 
soul wing its flight to the supreme tribunal. Already from 
the highest heaven God absolves the repentant sinner ! ” 

A triumphant hope illumined the countenance of Julio as 
he endeavored to raise his eyes to heaven. 

“ Saved — his soul is saved ! ” exclaimed Geronimo, trans- 
ported with a pious joy. 

A slight convulsion passed over the limbs of Julio, his 
muscles became paralyzed, his head fell heavily on Gero- 
nimo’s shoulder, and drawing his last breath, he murmured, 
almost unintelligibly : 

“ Mercy ! O my God ! ” 

“ He is dead I ” said Geronimo. “ May thy soul receive 
my fraternal embrace in its passage to eternity ! May this 
mark of reconciliation weigh in the balance of eternal jus- 
tice ! ” 

He bent over the dead ; but as if contact with the corpse 
had deprived him of his little remaining strength, he fell as 
it were lifeless. Not a limb moved, his arms dropped mo- 
tionless, his eyes closed, it seemed that his soul had also 
taken its flight to heaven to accompany the soul of Julio 
before God’s judgment-seat. 


180 


THE AMULET. 


CHAPTER XII. 

IS IT HIS GHOST? — THE GUILTY EXPOSED. 

I T was scarcely eight o’clock in the' morning when Signor 
Deodati was on his way to the residence of Mr. Van de 
Werve. 

The old merchant was walking very slowly, with his eyes 
cast down. From time to time he shook his head, as if dis- 
turbed by painful thoughts. His countenance expressed 
dissatisfaction rather than sorrow ; indeed, it might even be 
said to indicate angry and bitter feelings. 

The servant who opened the door ushered him into a 
parlor and went to call his master. Deodati threw himself 
into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and was so 
absorbed in thought that he was not aware of Mr. Van de 
Werve’s entrance. 

“ Good morning, signor,” said the Flemish noble, saluting 
him. “ Your early visit encourages me to hope that you have 
news of our poor Geronimo.” 

“Bad news, Mr. Van de Werv^ bad news,” said the old 
man, with tearful eyes. “ Sit down near me, for I have not 
power to raise my voice.” 

“ I notice, signor, that you are very pale. Are you ill ? ” 
“ My emotion has its origin in something worse than ill- 
ness. Day before yesterday Signor Turchi asserted in your 
presence that Geronimo had lost a considerable sum at play, 
and that he had fled the country to escape my just indigna- 
tion. Great as was my confidence in Turchi, I could not 
credit the truth of this revelation. I determined to seek in 
my nephew’s accounts the marks of his ingratitude, or rather 
the proofs of his innocence. I passed a portion of the night 
in calculating over and over again ; for the invariable result 
was so frightful that my mind and heart refused to accept 


THE AMULET. 


181 


the evidence of my senses. The sum lost in gambling by my 
nephew is incredible.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, “ then the Signor 
Turchi was not mistaken in his suspicions ? ” 

“ Ten thousand crowns ! ” said Deodati, sighing. 

“Ten thousand crowns!” replied Mr. Van de Werve. 
“ Impossible ! That is a fortune of itself.” 

“ And yet it is true. There is a deficit of ten thousand 
crowns in the money vault of the house, and there are ex- 
actly ten thousand crowns unaccounted for on the books. 
Not a line, not a mark refers in any manner to the employ- 
' ment or destination of this sum. Evidently it must have 
been used otherwise than in the business transactions of the 
house, and as Geronimo himself told the Signor Turchi that 
he had lost a considerable amount at play, I am forced in 
spite of myself to admit the painful truth. Ten thousand 
crowns! Can neither virtue nor fidelity be found upon 
earth ? A child whom I treated as my own son, whom I 
loved with blind affection, and over whose welfare I would 
have watched as long as I lived. And this is the return for 
all my love ! Ah ! signor, this ingratitude is like a dagger 
in my heart. 

Mr. Van de Werve gazed abstractedly as if in deep 
thought. Then he said, seriously : 

“ You are truly unhappy, signor, and I commiserate your 
sorrow. How can it be possible ? All is deceit and perfidy. 
Geronimo seemed the soul of virtue and loyalty ; he lived 
with so much economy and conducted himself so honorably, 
that to those who knew him not he might have appeared 
either a poor man or a precocious miser. And this tranquil, 
modest, prudent young man loses at the gaming-table ten 
thousand crowns, the property of his benefactor ! His laud- 
able course of conduct was but a base hypocrisy ! ” 

“ And nevertheless,” murmured the old Deodati, “ my un- 
fortunate nephew had a pure and loving heart ! Might not 
his blindness have been the effect of one solitary and mo- 
16 


182 


THE AMULET. 


mentary error? Perhaps so. Man sometimes meets fatal 
temptations which attract him irresistibly, but to which he 
yields only once in his life.” 

“ Why then did he fly, and thus acknowledge his guilt ? 
No, signor, no excuse can palliate such misdeeds. I burn 
with indignation at the thought that such signal favors have 
met with such cold and base ingratitude. The idea of your 
affliction restrains me from speaking of the outrage done my 
daughter. Fortunately, the reputation and social position 
of my family is such as to screen it from the consequences 
of such an act. But, signor, I hope you will agree with me 
that there can no longer be a question of an alliance be- 
tween my daughter and your nephew. He may return and 
obtain your pardon, but that will not change my determi- 
nation. From this day forward the Signor Geronimo is as 
a stranger whom we have never known.” 

Deodati regarded the irritated nobleman with tearful eyes, 
and seemed to deprecate the inflexible decree. 

Mr. Van de Werve took his hand, and said in a calmer 
manner : 

“ Be reasonable, signor, and do not let yourself be blinded 
by affection. What a dishonor to my name, were I to per- 
mit a man with so tarnished a reputation to enter my family ! 
Could I confide the happiness of my good and noble child 
to one who was not withdrawn from a culpable love of play 
by life-long benefits ? Could I accept as my son a man whom 
I could not esteem, whom on the contrary I would de- 
spise for his ingratitude to you ? Acknowledge with me that 
such a union is impossible, and let us talk no more of it. 
Be still my friend, however, as long as you remain at 
Antwerp.” 

The merchant shook his head, and after a few moments^ 
silence, he replied : 

“ Alas ! I ought to admit that there is no hope of real- 
izing this honorable alliance. What happiness Geronimo 
has staked on the cast of a die! I thank you, Mr. Van de 


THE AMULET. 


183 


Werve, for your proffered friendship, but I shall not remain 
at Antwerp. To-day I shall beg Signor Turchi to settle up 
the affairs of the house in this city. Now that I have no one 
in the world to care for, none for whom to work and amass 
money, I shall retire from commerce. I have ordered the 
n Salvatore to be provisioned, and I shall set sail by the first 
favorable wind.” 

“ You are right, signor. By returning to your own beau- 
tiful country, you will the sooner forget this misfortune.” 

“ God knows when I will revisit my country ! ” replied the 
old man. 

“Are you not going to Italy?” demanded Mr. Van de 
Werve. 

“ No, sir ; but to England.” 

“In search of your nephew? Signor Turchi led us to 
suppose that he had sought refuge in that island. I admire 
your unbounded love for a man so little deserving of it; 
but, signor, you require rest. Follow my advice: go to 
Italy, and do not shorten your life by the sorrows which 
may await you in England.” 

“ The advice is no doubt good,” replied Deodati ; “ but I 
cannot follow it. However guilty he may be, Geronimo is 
the only son of my deceased brother, whom I promised on 
his death-bed to watch over his child as if he were my own. 
Were I to abandon Geronimo entirely, he might be pushed 
by want and misery into the path of vice, perhaps of in- 
famy. I will fulfil my duty to the last. If I love him less 
than formerly, at least I will save him from utter ruin.” 

“What generosity!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, in 
admiration. “ You travel about in search of your nephew ; 
you endanger your health. I foresee that he has but to 
speak to obtain pardon. And this great sacrifice, this 
magnanimous affection meets with such a return ! It is 
frightful ! ” 

“ No, sir,” replied Deodati, “ I will not pardon Geronimo. 
He will never be the same to me. Should I find him, or 


184 


THE AMULET. 


should he return to me, I will give him an income sufficient 
to keep him from want ; that being done, I shall renounce 
the world and retire into a cloister, to await there in solitude 
and peace the time when it may please God to call me to 
himself.” 

Mr. Van de Werve heard the street-door open, and said 
eagerly to the old merchant : 

“Signor, my daughter is at church and may return at 
any moment. I beg you not to speak of these things in her 
presence. Since the disappearance of Geronimo, she does 
nothing but weep and pray ; no consideration alleviates her 
sorrow, nothing consoles her. If she were suddenly to lose 
all hope, it might cause her death. Heavens ! Signor Turchi, 
what has happened to him?” 

He arose hastily and regarded in astonishment Simon 
Turchi, who entered and attempted to speak, but the words 
seemed to die upon his lips ; for he stood trembling in the 
centre of the room, uttering unintelligible sounds. He was 
pale as death. 

Deodati arose also, and looked inquiringly at Turchi. 

The latter said, hurriedly : 

“ I went to the house of the bailiff ; he was not at home. 
He has been sent for, and he will be here immediately with 
his officers to accompany me to my garden. Oh ! I have 
terrible news to communicate ; but my mind wanders, I am 
losing my senses. I can tell nothing, particularly to you, 
Signor Deodati. Unhappy old man ! Why did God reserve 
such a trial for your old age ? ” 

“Another misfortune? Speak, Simon, speak,” said Deo- 
dati, in suppliant tones, and trembling from anxiety. 

Turchi fell, as if from exhaustion, upon a chair, and said, 
in a voice broken by sobs : 

“No, signor, ask me nothing; I could not break your 
heart by such stunning tidings. Alas! alas! who auticipated 
such a misfortune? My unhappy friend! my poor Gero- 
nimo ! ” 


THE AMULET. 


185 


A torrent of tears fell from his eyes, and while Deodati 
and Mr. Van de Werve begged him to tell the cause of his 
extraordinary emotion, he stammered : 

“ Oh ! let me be silent ; despair tortures my heart. I can 
tell no one but the bailiff ; he will soon be here. If I could 
but doubt ! But no, it is too true ; there is no more hope ! 
May the God of mercy receive his poor soul into heaven ! ” 

“Of whom do you speak?” exclaimed Deodati. “His 
soul ? Whose soul ? Geronimo’s ? ” 

Steps were heard in the vestibule. Simon Turchi went to 
the door, and said : 

“ Here is the bailiff! He will know the secret which is 
breaking my heart.” 

The bailiff entered the room, looked around in surprise, 
and at last said to Simon Turchi, who continued to talk con- 
fusedly : 

“ You have sent for me in all haste, in order to make a 
terrible revelation ; I am here with my officers. Have you 
discovered Geronimo’s assassins ? Speak, Simon, and tell us 
what you know.” 

“ So horrible is this secret, messire, that my tongue refuses 
to tell it. Ah ! if I could forever — ” 

“ Calm yourself, signor,” said the bailiff, with perfect self- 
possession. “ What have you learned?” 

“ But — “ but I must be alone with you. The news I have 
to communicate must not be revealed before Signor Deo- 
dati.” 

The old man said, with tearful eyes : 

“You are cruel. Signor Simon! What could you say 
more terrible? You speak of Geronimo’s soul; you an- 
nounce his death, and yet you leave me in this horrible 
doubt. Speak, I conjure you.” 

All that Simon Turchi had said was only a deception 
practised upon his auditors, in order to make them believe 
that grief had affected his mind, and to prepare the way for 
his revelation. 

16 * 


186 


THE AMULET. 


At last he appeared to yield to necessity, and said : 

“ God grant that the frightful news may not afflict you as 
it did me ! Listen ! you know that two days ago my servant 
Julio left my service because I severely reproved his irregu- 
larities. This disquieted me, because I had noticed that he 
was pursued by some secret remorse. Just now, hardly a 
half hour ago, I left my residence, and was going towards 
the Dominican church to pray for my poor friend. On the 
way I thought of my servant Julio, and feared that in his 
despair he might have taken his life. When I was near the 
bridge, I heard my own name timidly pronounced. I turned 
and saw Julio. I commenced to reproach him with his 
absence, but putting his finger on his lips, he whispered : 

“‘Signor, I beg you to follow me ; I have a secret to reveal 
to you.’ 

“ His manner and tone of voice were so peculiar that I 
accompanied him to a retired spot. His revelation caused 
me such intense grief that I could hardly stand, and I was 
obliged to support myself against the wall as I received the 
confession of the penitent assassin.” 

A cry of horror escaped Deodati. Eager to hear the re- 
mainder, Mr. Van de Werve gazed fixedly upon the narra- 
tor. The bailifi' was more calm — he listened attentively 
and nodded his head, as if he foresaw the conclusion of 
Turchi’s narrative. 

“ I hardly dare continue,” he said. “ My soul revolts — 
but I must disregard my feelings,” and in a more tranquil 
manner, he resumed : 

“ Shuddering with horror, I heard Julio say : 

“‘Master, I have committed a frightful murder. Ee- 
morse pursues me as a malediction from God. I shall put 
an end to my guilty life. In an hour I shall be in eternal 
torments, but I wish the body of my victim to be buried in 
holy ground. Go to your pavilion. In the lowest cellar, at 
the extremity of the subterranean passage, you will find the 
corpse of Signor Geronimo buried.’ ” 


THE AMULET. 


187 


Tears fell fast from the eyes of Signor Deodati, and sobs 
convulsed his frame. 

Turchi continued : 

“ ‘ Signor Geronimo ! ’ I exclaimed, in terror. * Have you 
killed my poor friend ? ’ 

‘ Yes, I put to death Signor Geronimo. I needed money 
to spend at the taverns, and you would not give it to me. I 
killed him in order to get the money he might have about 
him. Adieu! This very day all will be over with me.’ 
Before I had sufficiently recovered from the shock to think 
of seizing Julio, he had disappeared. Probably, to-day — ” 

“ Heavens ! ” exclaimed Simon Turchi, “ I hear Miss Van 
de Werve.” 

“ For the love of God, not a word in her presence,” said 
Mr. Van de Werve. 

Mary entered the room, looking %ound anxiously. She 
had seen the officers at the door, and she seemed to inquire 
of her father the cause of their presence. 

She remarked her. father’s pallor and embarrassment. 
Simon Turchi looked down, as if in despair. Deodati cov- 
ered his face with his hands. 

A cry of anguish escaped the young girl, and she glanced 
in turns at her father, Deodati, Turchi, and the bailiff ; but 
they each seemed anxious to avoid her eye. 

“Go Jo your room, Mary,” said Mr. Van de Werve. 
“ Give me this proof of affection. Ask nothing.” 

The young girl, struck by these evidences of some misfor- 
tune, ran to her father and exclaimed, joining her hands : 

“ Speak, father, and tell me what has happened. Leave 
me not in this terrible suspense. Tell me that they have 
not found Geronimo’s dead body. Alas I he is dead I Is it 
not so ? ” 

Throwing her arms around her father’s neck, she wept 
bitterly, conjuring him to tell her the cause of their emotion. 

Without giving her any explanation, Mr. Van de Werve 
attempted to lead his daughter out of the room ; but she, 


188 


THE AMULET. 


like one crazed by grief, released her hand from her father’s, 
fell upon her knees before Turchi, and exclaimed : 

“ By the love you bore him, signor, take pity on me and 
tell me what has happened to him. Let me not leave the 
room under the frightful conviction that he is dead ! ” 

Turchi remained silent, gazing upon her with an expres- 
sion of profound sadness. 

“You, too, are implacable, inexorable!” she said, rising. 
“ But you, at least — his uncle, his father — will be more 
merciful.” 

She ran to the weeping merchant, gently forced his hands 
from his face, and conjured him, in piteous accents, to give 
her some information which would relieve the torturing 
suspense. 

The old Deodati, still weeping, threw his arms around 
her neck, and murmured : 

“ God bless you, my child, for your love. Let us pray 
for him ! ” 

Mr. Van de Werve had left the room to call Petronilla. 
He returned with her, and said to his daughter : 

“Mary, go with your duenna. You must not remain 
here longer.” 

The young girl seemed not to hear her father’s words, for 
she was immovable as if petrified by grief. 

He added, in an impatient, severe tone : 

“ Mary, leave the room. I wish it ; I command it. Obey 
me.” 

She arose and walked slowly towards the door. Tears 
flowed down her cheeks ; she supported her trembling limbs 
by leaning on the arm of her duenna. Mr. Van de Werve 
feared she would lose consciousness before reaching her own 
apartment. 

All, with the exception of the perfidious Turchi, were 
moved by compassion for the unhappy young girl. 

As the duenna opened the door to let her mistress pass 
out, strange sounds were heard in the vestibule. 


THE AMULET. 


189 


Mary smarted, and stepped back into the room, as though 
in presence of some apparition. 

“ It is his ghost, his spirit,” she exclaimed, “ arisen from 
the grave to demand vengeance upon his murderers ! ” 

She gazed with intense emotion, then added, in accents of 
the wildest joy : 

“He smiles upon me; it is himself! He lives! It is 
Geronimo ! ” 

Pronouncing this cherished name, she fell insensible in 
the arms of her attendant, who, assisted by the bailiff, carried 
her to an armchair. 

Signor Geronimo entered. His face was as pale and 
fleshless as that of a skeleton. The wound he had received 
in his neck appeared like a large spot of clotted blood — his 
garments were disordered, soiled, and blood-stained. He 
seemed really a spectre just arisen from the tomb. 

As soon as Turchi recognized his victim, he recoiled, utter- 
ing a cry of terror ; and imagining that God had permitted 
a miracle in order to punish his crime, he extended his 
trembling hands to Geronimo, as if to implore pardon. 

The young man cast upon him a look of disgust and con- 
tempt, and exclaimed : 

“You here, assassin? Tremble, for the Supreme Judge 
will demand of you an account of my blood and of Julio’s 
death.” 

A murmur of surprise and terror ran through the room ; 
all eyes were fixed on Simon Turchi, who seemed crushed 
by Geronimo’s words. 

Having thus addressed Turchi, Geronimo rushed into his 
uncle’s arms and embraced him in a transport of joy. 

“ Oh, unexpected happiness !” he exclaimed. “ It is per- 
mitted me to see my uncle again in this world ! I know 
you have suffered ; you have suffered as a father deprived 
of his only child ! No more sorrow now. I will repay you 
for your tender affection ; I will love you ; I will show my 
gratitude; I will venerate you. Ah! bless the God of 


190 


THE AMULET. 


mercy, who has saved me from the fangs of that tiger thirst- 
ing for my blood ! But Mary, where is Mary ? Ah ! there 
she is ! My beloved friend, what has happened ? ” 

He ran to the insensible young girl, knelt before her, and 
endeavored to recall her to consciousness by every endearing 
epithet. 

In the meantime Mr. Van de Werve aided the duenna in 
her exertions to restore animation. Taking advantage of 
this, Simon Turchi walked towards the door with the inten- 
tion of making his escape ; but the bailiff, discovering his 
design, drew his sword and placed himself in the doorway. 

Then Simon Turchi understood the fate awaiting him. 
He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. 
He trembled in every limb, and his breast heaved with sighs 
of anguish. Every expectation of escape by flight, or by 
making an appeal for pardon, vanished as he beheld the im 
dignant expression of the bailiff. 

Mary at last recovered from the faint into which she had 
fallen. She looked around her in surprise, as if ignorant of 
what had happened ; but when Geronimo’s voice fell in 
joyous accents on her ear, a bright smile irradiated her 
countenance, and she exclaimed : 

“ It is not a dream ! He lives ! I see him once more ! 
Geronimo ! Geronimo ! ” 

The young noble was too overpowered to do more than 
call the name of his beloved. 

Only a few minutes had elapsed since Geronimo’s entrance ; 
all were too much moved to express their surprise in words. 
But the bailiff resolved to put an end to this harrowing 
scene by the performance of a painful duty. 

He said, in an imperative manner : 

“ Signor Geronimo, be pleased to interrupt for a moment 
the expression of your happiness. By the authority of the 
law I ask you what has happened, and why you stigmatize 
the Signor Turchi as an assassin. Approach, and obey my 
order.” 


THE AMULET. 


191 


Turchi, foreseeing that his frightful crime was about to be 
revealed, writhed convulsively and was covered with shame 
and confusion. He dared not look upon his accuser. 

“ Declare the truth,” ordered the bailiff. 

“ Five or six weeks ago,” said Geronimo, “ Simon Turchi 
told me that unforeseen circumstances made it an imperative 
necessity for him to raise the sum of ten thousand crowns, 
adding that if he did not succeed in obtaining it immediately, 
the credit of his house would be gone, and that he himself 
would be irretrievably ruined. He needed the sum, he said, 
only for one month. I lent him the ten thousand crowns, 
and at his earnest solicitation, in order to conceal the knowl- 
edge of this loan from the clerks, I made no entry upon the 
books of the transaction, but was satisfied with an acknowl- 
edgment in writing of the debt.” 

Old Deodati made an exclamation of joy, ran to his 
nephew, and embraced him affectionately. 

“ God be praised ! Dear Geronimo, you restore me to life. 
That wicked man tried to persuade me that you had lost 
ten thousand crowns at play. You were too virtuous, too 
grateful for that, my beloved boy ! ” 

“ Observe the respect due the law. Signor Deodati. Con- 
tinue your statement, Signor Geronimo.” 

What an odious falsehood ! ” said the young man. 

Then turning to the bailiff, he continued : 

“ When we last met in this house, Signor Turchi told me 
that a foreign merchant, who wished to remain unknown, 
would repay me the ten thousand crowns. I was to go to 
his country-house alone, and secretly to return the note I 
held, and receive reliable bills of exchange upon Italy. 
When I went, Julio, Simon Turchi’s servant, pushed me 
into a chair prepared as a trap, in which my body was 
caught and held immovable by steel springs. Then Simon 
entered with a dagger in his hand ; he took from me the 
note, and destroyed it in my presence. He attempted to 
stab me in the breast, but the blow was warded off by a 


192 


THE AMULET. 


copper amulet which I wore around my neck. I then re- 
ceived in my neck what I considered a mortal wound ; I 
felt my blood flowing freely, and I bade, as I supposed, an 
eternal adieu to life.” 

Old Deodati, without being aware of it, had drawn his 
sword from the scabbard as if he were about to pierce Turchi 
to the heart ; but he was restrained by a look of severity from 
the bailiff, although he continued playing with the hilt, and 
muttering in an undertone menaces against the murderer. 

“ I awoke to consciousness,” continued Geronimo, “ in a 
dark dungeon ; I was lying beside a grave which had been 
dug to receive my remains. When Julio returned to bury 
my corpse, he found me living. He was about to kill me, 
but he recognized the amulet I wore around my neck, and 
I was saved. The old blind woman who gave me the amulet 
as a recompense for delivering her from the hands of the 
Moslems was Julio’s mother. Last night Signor Turchi 
gave poisoned wine to Julio, who died in my arms, declaring 
to me that Signor Turchi hired Bufferio to assassinate me. 
I labored for hours before I succeeded in obtaining egress 
from the garden. Now behold me saved from a frightful 
death through the miraculous protection of God, and re- 
stored to all that is dear to me on earth ! ” 

The bailiff’s voice was heard, issuing his commands, in 
the vestibule. Turchi comprehended the order. He cast 
himself on his knees, extended his hands, and weeping, cried 
out : 

“Oh! Messire Van Schoonhoven, — Geronimo, — I have 
been guilty of a frightful crime. I deserve your hatred, your 
contempt and death ; but have pity on me I Spare me the 
shame of the scaffold ; do not cover my family with eternal 
infamy. Exile me to the ends of the earth; but pardon, 
pardon, deliver me not to the executioner I ” 

Five oflicers of justice appeared at the door. 

“ What are your commands ?” asked the chief. 

“ Bind the signor’s hands behind his back I ” 


THE AMULET. 


193 


“Heavens! bind my hands like a thief!'’ exclaimed 
Turchi. 

“ Bind the hands of a nobleman ? ” repeated the chief in 
surprise. 

“ Execute my order immediately ! This nobleman is an 
infamous robber and a cowardly assassin. Cast him in the 
deepest dungeon ; he shall pay the penalty of his crime upon 
the scaffold.” 

The command was promptly obeyed, and Turchi, in spite 
of his resistance, was dragged from the room followed by the 
bailiff 

Mary and Geronimo wept with joy. Deodati claimed 
their attention saying : 

“ My dear children, let us fulfil a sacred duty of grati- 
tude. God has so visibly protected innocence that the feel- 
ing of His presence in our midst overpowers me. Your 
hopes will become a reality. Let us pray ! ” 

He knelt before the crucifix, bowed his head and joined 
his hands. 

Geronimo and Mary knelt beside the old man, Mr. Van 
de Werve behind them. 

For a long time they lifted their grateful hearts in 
thanksgiving to the God of goodness. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

MARY VAN DE WERVE’s (nOW MADAME OERONIMO 
deodati) departure for ITALY — THE PUNISH- 
MENT OF SIMON TURCHI. 

I T was six o’clock in the morning. 

The height of the sun indicated that the warm season of 
summer had replaced the mild month of May. It was ap- 
parently a festival day at Antwerp, for through all the gates 
17 N 


194 


THE AMULET. 


people poured from the surrounding country into the city. 
The streets were filled with persons of all ages, who, talking 
and laughing, hastened to the centre of the city, as .though 
they anticipated some magnificent spectacle. 

Before Mr. Van de Werve’s residence was a compact mass 
of citizens who seemed impatient at the delay. Through a 
sentiment of respect, they were perfectly quiet, speaking in 
very low tones, and making way to afford a passage through 
the crowd every time that a cavalier or any notable person- 
age presented himself for admission into the house. 

The attraction to the centre of the city must have been 
very powerful, for the greater part of those who passed 
neither stopped nor turned their heads. Some approached, 
and learning upon inquiry as to the cause of the gathering, 
that Miss Van de Werve was about to leave for Italy, they 
immediately resumed their walk, as if the sight of this de- 
parture were no equivalent to the imposing spectacle they 
were going to witness. A few, however, remained in order 
to discover the real object of so large a concourse of people. 

An old gray-headed peasant, after having listened to the 
conversation going on among the peasants, recognized in the 
crowd a man from his own village, who had been residing 
for some time in the city, near the church of Saint James, 
and who consequently, he thought, must be better informed 
than the others in regard to Miss Van de Werve. 

He elbowed his way through the crowd until he reached 
his friend, struck him on the shoulder, and said : 

“ What is going on here. Master John, to collect such an 
assembly? I heard some one say that Miss Van de Werve 
was about to leave for Italy.” 

“ Ah ! Master Stephen,” said the other, “ call her Madame 
Geronimo Deodati.” 

“ Is she married ?” 

“ One would say. Master Stephen, that our village is at 
the other end of the world. Even the children of Antwerp 
bless this marriage as a striking proof of God’s justice.” 


THE AMULET. 


195 


“I did hear, friend John, that God' had visibly avenged 
virtue and punished crime. The assassin dies by a frightful 
death, and the victim becomes the husband of the noblest 
and wealthiest young lady in the marquisate. Do you know 
her. Master John?” 

“ Do I know her ? She passes my house twice every day 
in going to church. I furnish the family with bread, and I 
have frequent opportunities of speaking with this amiable 
young lady.” 

“ I would like to see her,” said the old man, “ but if I 
wait, I shall arrive too late at the public square.” 

“ You need not fear,” replied Master John. “ The execu- 
tioner’s car will not leave the prison for an hour to come.” 

The peasant hesitated as to what he should do. 

“ Are you sure that the young lady will leave at once ? ” 

“ Immediately, Master Stephen. Mr. Van de Werve urges 
the departure — he wishes to be out of the city before the 
executioner commences his work.” 

“ Why,” said the peasant, “ did they wait until to-day ? 
In their place I would have gone long ago.” 

“ Ah ! ” replied Master John, “ here is another evidence 
of God’s intervention in these terrible affairs. The vessel 
which bears them to Italy has been ready to sail for a week. 
During all that time the wind blew constantly from the 
south-west ; it changed to the east only last night, so that 
their departure before was impossible. But the tide is high 
now and will commence to ebb at the very hour fixed for the 
death of the assassin. You see that God himself willed Mr. 
Van de Werve to remain here until his vengeance was 
accomplished.” 

“ Does she go to Italy to reside ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; she only goes on a wedding trip. She will re- 
turn in the course of a year, when the impression of the 
perfidy and cruelty of Simon Turchi will be less painful. 
Back, back. Master Stephen, they are coming ! ” 

From the crowd arose a joyous shout. Each was anxious 


196 


THE AMULET. 


to approach Madame Deodati. Those who did not know 
her desired to see the noble young woman whose name was 
so painfully connected with the bloody history of Simon 
Turchi, and who was esteemed a model of pure virtue, 
fervent piety, and ideal beauty. The neighbors and those 
who had the honor of knowing her collected in order to 
salute her, to bid her a respectful and cordial adieu, and to 
wish her a happy voyage. 

Mary Van de Werve, now Madame Geronimo Deodati, 
appeared at the door accompanied by her husband. As 
soon as the people perceived her, loud and long acclamations 
greeted her ; they waved their caps, clapped their hands, 
rent the air with their cries of joy, and strove to obtain a 
glance of the angelic features of the beautiful lady and the 
noble countenance of her husband, who had been so miracu- 
lously preserved, by the providence of God, from the hands 
of his cruel enemy, Simon Turchi. 

Mr. Van de Werve walked by his daughter’s side ; the old 
Deodati was near his beloved nephew Geronimo. Then 
followed Mary’s two married brothers and a large number 
of her father’s near relatives and friends, as well as many 
Italians, Portuguese, and Spaniards, who wished to escort 
Geronimo to the ship. 

When Mary heard the benedictions and joyous shouts of 
the people, and saw all eyes fixed upon her with looks of 
love, the blood mantled to her cheeks, and she modestly cast 
down her eyes. But immediately raising them, she saluted 
the crowd as a mark of her gratitude for their kindness. 
The multitude, at a sign from Mr. Van de Werve, opened a 
passage for the party, and they proceeded to the Scheldt 
amid acclamations testifying the love and respect they in- 
spired. Their drive resembled a triumphal procession. The 
old Deodati was deeply moved. He seemed rejuvenated. A 
swjset: smije was upon his lips, and he looked proudly upon 
Geronimo, 'fhfis fwU pf the thought of their future happi- 
Uess, the^ reached the dgck-^ard. In the middle of the 


THE AMULET. 


197 


Scheldt was the II Salvatore, decked with flags and rocking 
upon the waves as if conscious of the precious treasure about 
to be confided to it. 

A part of the sailors were occupied in unmooring the 
vessel ; even the harsh grating sound of the capstan could 
be heard on the wharf. The rest of the crew manned the 
masts, and they waved their caps in the air, shouting : 

“ Benvenuto ! henvenuto ! Viva, viva la nostra signora ! ” 

At the same time the sound of five or six cannon from 
the II Salvatore boomed over the waters, prolonged by the 
echoes from either side as it floated down the river. The 
multitude replied by three cheers, and the last reverberation 
of the cannon was lost in the vivas of those on the shore and 
ships. 

In the meantime parents and friends were bidding adieu. 
Many tears were shed, and it was with tearful eyes that 
Mary Van de Werve received upon her brow her brothers’ 
kiss. 

The II Salvatore weighed anchor; the sails caught the 
wind, and the vessel floated majestically down the river with 
the tide. 

Mr. Van de Werve, Deodati, and their two happy chil- 
dren, entered the bark which awaited them. Petronilla 
seated herself beside her mistress. They exchanged a last 
adieu, and the eight oars fell simultaneously in the water. 
The bark, under the strokes of the robust oarsmen, cut the 
waves in a rapid course. 

At this moment Geronimo’s eyes were filled with tears. 
Lifting his eyes to heaven, he said : 

“ Blessed be Thou, my God, for all the sufferings Thou 
hast sent me ; blessed be Thou for Thy infinite goodness. I 
thank Thee for the wife it has pleased Thee to give me ; she 
will be my companion in my much loved country. A thou- 
sand thanks for all Thy benefits ! ” 

The bark had reached the galley. A ladder was lowered, 
and, aided by the sailors, the party ascended the deck. 

17 * 


198 


THE AMULET. 


The pilot gave the signal, the sails were unfurled, the ship 
rocked for a moment as if courting the breeze, and then it 
rapidly cleaved the waves. ^ 

The cannon again boomed from the II Salvatore, and again 
the acclamations of the crowd rent the air. 

The sounds had hardly died away when the spectators, as 
if impelled by one thought, immediately retired, and made 
all speed to reach the central part of the city. 

The crowd which left the wharf so precipitately soon 
arrived at the grand square, but they found it already occu- 
pied by so compact a mass of human beings, that it was 
impossible for them to penetrate it. As far as the eye could 
reach, there was a sea of heads ; all the windows were 
crowded with women and even children ; the roofs swarmed 
with curious spectators ; the iron balustrades seemed to bend 
under the weight of the children who had climbed upon 
them. 

A solemn silence reigned in the midst of the vast multi- 
tude. Not a sound was heard save the slow and mournful 
tolling of the death-bell, and at intervals a scream so pierc- 
ing, so frightful, that those who listened to it turned pale 
and trembled. Every eye was fixed upon a particular spot, 
whence clouds of smoke curled in the air, and from which 
escaped the cries of distress. 

What passed that day on the grand square of Antwerp is 
thus related by Matthew Bandello, Bishop of Agen, who 
lived at that period, and who wrote from the testimony of 
an eye-witness : 

“ Upon the appointed day, Simon Turchi was enclosed in 
the same chair and driven on a wagon through the streets 
of Antwerp, the good priest accompanying him and exhort- 
ing him. When they reached the grand square, the chair 
was removed from the wagon. The executioners lighted a 
slow fire, which they kept alive with wood, but in such a 


THE AMULET. 


199 


manner that the flames should not rise too high, but sufiiced 
to roast slowly the unhappy Turchi. The priest remained 
as near to him as the heat permitted, and frequently said to 
him ; 

“ ‘ Simon, this is the hour for repentance ! ’ 

“And Simon, as long as he could speak, replied: 

“‘Yes, father.’ ” 

Simon Turchi evinced great repentance and much pa- 
tience, and he accepted with resignation the painful and 
infamous death to which he was condemned. When it was 
certain that he was dead, his body, partially consumed, was 
conveyed outside the city gates and attached to a stake by 
an iron chain. The dagger with which he had stabbed 
Geronimo was thrust into his side. The stake was so placed 
on the public road that it could be seen by all who passed, 
in order that the punishment inflicted for murder might 
serve as a warning to others, and prevent the commission of 
infamous crimes. 


THE END. 






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